The Fairee Tale
by fyrefairee
Summary: Sent to spend the summer with her grumpy grandfather Edward, Lise discovers an old trunk with five notebooks Reading, she is reminded of a faerie tale she heard when she was Escaping up to the attic each day, Lise slowly gets to know Japser, Lilly and Isadora, the authors of the Entranced, Lise learns the history of her family, and the truth of the faerietale
1. Prologue

Lise stomped up the stairs, hoping that she would be disturbing her great-grandfather, but knowing that she probably wouldn't. She resented him, resented being here with him in the middle of nowhere, hours from any towns, miles from the nearest neighbor. Resented his silence, his grumpiness, his coldness. She resented her parents for sending her here, for the entire summer.

Her grandfather heard Lise stomping up the stairs, but left her to it. He was too wrapped up in his own little bubble of grief, too intent on the cocoon it formed around him to respond, to talk to the girl left in his care for the summer. The girl who reminded him too much of his youth, enhancing his grief and the intense pain of knowing what he had lost.

It was the summer before Lise's senior year, and she thought she was meant to be back at home, relaxing in the sun by her best friend Olivia's pool, talking about boys, and generally doing nothing much all summer break.

Instead, her parents had sent her here, to spend the summer with a great-grandfather who she barely knew, who she was sure hated her. Here, isolated geographically and technologically. _You would swear he lived in like the 1990s_, she thought bitterly. He had no computer, no internet, his only contact with the outside world a land line phone, and a letter box in town. And the town was so small, it wasn't even on the map. Once a week, he would drive the two hours each way, do his grocery shopping and collect his mail, returning home as silent and sullen as ever.

So, Lise stomped up the stairs to the attic of his house, trying to find something - anything - to do. She had looked at his collection of DVDs, now so outdated that she didn't know how to use the archaic DVD player linked to TV. All the movies he had were old, from like the 2020's and she thought they looked totally boring. A few of the actors looked familiar, but she assumed that it was from channel hopping, seeing snippets of classic movies on one of the golden oldies stations.

She had only been here a week, and already she was bored. And, if she was bored, unhappy, she was going to do anything in her power to make sure that everyone around her was, too.

The attic she stomped up to was littered with boxes, furniture, and dust. There were no footprints, and she could only assume that no one had been here in a very long time. She walked into the room, watching as her feet stirred up the dust, kicking it and seeing the motes highlighted in the sunlight coming in from the large gable windows.

Moving further into the room, Lise started to open boxes at random. Most were filled with old clothing, kids toys, the things that people accumulated over years of life. Her great-grandfather had lived here as long as she could remember, and she doubted that he had cleaned the attic out in that time.

As she continued into the attic, one box caught her eye. The rest of the boxes were cardboard, hastily shut up, sealed with packing tape and labelled in an unfamiliar hand. This box, about half way into the room (_in the heart of the room_ she thought), was different. It was an old traveling trunk, made of a stamped metal, dented with use, with a curved lid, and a padlock through the latch.

Kneeling in front of the box, she felt her interest pique. She wondered what was in the trunk that made it so special, made it warrant locking. Reaching out, she tugged at the padlock, and fell back in surprise when it came away in her hands. She realised that it only looked like it had been locked.

Regaining her balance, she leaned forward, freeing the clasp of the latch, opening the lid.

The box was filled with clothing, and books. Reaching in, she picked up a bundle of books, bound together with a lilac ribbon. Looking at them, she carefully ran her hands along the spines, noticing the different sizes, colours and textures of the books. The top book was red, with a chocolate book under it. In the middle was one of two olive books, sandwiching a navy book. Some were fabric coated, others leather.

Carefully, Lise untied the ribbon holding them together. She drew the ribbon away from the books, carefully placing it in the trunk. It was old, and clearly important to someone. She may be cranky, but she wasn't heartless or careless. She gently placed the pile of books on the ground, and picked up the top book. As she opened it up, a letter fell out of its pages.

Placing the red book back with the others, she picked up the letter. One side seemed to be covered with a fairee tale, while the other seemed to have a letter written by some unknown, probably long dead hand. The paper seemed old, fragile, and so she held it carefully as she began to read.

_Once upon a time, there was a prince of the great land of the South-East Teks, and a princess from the southern lands of Strailie. Their lands were very different. Both lands had very different customs and traditions. Both the prince and the princess were very young, but filled with great potential. In order to expose these two royal children to a broader world view, their parents sent them both away, expecting them to learn about other customs and other ways of viewing the world and its citizens. These two royals were expected to learn from their new foreign experiences and then come back to rule their kingdoms. _

_Little did their parents know, but the prince and princess were destined to meet. As they travelled through the strange new lands, they found their paths crossed for a short time. Recognising kindred spirits, the prince and princess developed a friendship that quickly blossomed into love. They spent every waking moment together, dreading the day that they must part. But knowing, accepting that this must happen, for the good of their kingdoms._

_Parting was sad for the prince and princess, and both shed tears for their loss. They continued on their tours, each a little sadder and wiser. Two months after the prince and princess parted ways, the princess realised that she was pregnant. The baby was the prince's. She tried to contact him, but was unable to get any messages to him. _

_Without the support of the prince, she turned to her two best friends to help her through the pregnancy. When the princess's daughter was born, all three agreed that she was the most beautiful thing any of them had ever seen. A gift. These two friends became godparents to the little girl, loving her and showering her with gifts._

_The princess returned home, with her baby, ready to begin to rule her kingdom. The king and queen, upon finding out about their granddaughter, were outraged. They insisted that the princess give her baby away, threatening to banish her if they didn't. Horrified by her parent's threats, the princess fled the kingdom with her daughter, running to a life that, while not of poverty, was not the decadence that the princess was used to. Her parents, realising that she had fled, striped her of her title, forbidding anyone in the kingdom to speak of her._

_The princess, dethroned and without her parent's support, turned to two more of her friends. They took her in, loved her, and the baby. As the princess's daughter grew, these two friends also became godparents. So, the princess's daughter had not two but four godparents watching over her. Protecting and loving her._

_The princess loved the little girl very much, and while she was sad for the loss of her prince, would not have changed anything. Her little girl was the centre of the world, the most precious thing in her life._

Pondering the words that seemed familiar, and yet foreign to her, Lise turned the page over, and began to read the second side.

_My darling daughter, for your entire life, I have told you the story of your mother and father as a fairee tale, because that's what the time I spent with your father felt like to me. My very own fairee tale. When you were little, I whispered it to you every night before you went to sleep. In the last few years I haven't needed to tell you as often. You haven't needed to hear it to get to sleep anymore. But, please never forget my fairee tale. I mean every word of it. He was my prince, and he made me feel like a princess._

_You truly are the greatest gift I was ever given. I would not trade your life for anything, not more time with your father, not my relationship with my parents, not even my own life if that was the stakes._

_You are more intelligent than I could ever hope, more beautiful than I could ever imagine. Like me, you fast tracked through school and graduated even younger than I did. I always wondered if it was the right decision to let you do that, to deprive you of the social interaction that can only be gained from spending time with your peers. But, I should have known not to worry. I know that you may have questioned some of my decisions over the years, but everything I did, I did for you. _

_You willingly accepted the fairee story that I told you over your childhood, even after you stopped believing in fairees, Santa Claus, the Easter bunny and even the monsters under the bed. But I believe I owe you more. _

_I owe you the truth._

_So, on the eve of your college education, I give you these three books._

_This book contains the full story of your birth, of my life. It is unfinished, I know, but hopefully it will help answer any questions you may have. I may cross into things that make you uncomfortable, and for that I apologise. But I think that everything in this book is important for you to know, important for you to understand. None of the things this book will tell you makes my faireetale any less true. It simply gives the story more body._

_This is, I understand, an unconventional gift. The red book I wrote over the last week, while the chocolate leather book came into my possession barely three weeks ago. It was written by your father. The third book, the olive one, is still blank, ready for you to fill with your life. Because you, my darling girl, are going to have an amazing life. _

_I start my new job today, and that means leaving you alone in this city where you don't know anyone yet. I don't want to leave you alone, but know I have to. I don't want you to have to entertain yourself in this unfamiliar place for the next month, but have resigned myself to the fact you will have to._

_I just hope that these will help to fill the time._

_So, my darling girl, here is the truth._

_Love, forever, your mother_

_Xoxo_

Carefully putting the letter down, Lise was confused by the feeling of de ja vue that reading the fairee tale had caused. It sounded familiar, as if she was meant to remember it. She shook her head, trying to clear the feeling. Laying the letter carefully down, she picked up the red book, the one the letter urged the unknown darling daughter, and began to read.


	2. Book One Lilly - C1 - Confessions

My darling daughter.

I never thought I'd be writing this, but it seems the world works in strange and mysterious ways. The story I have told you all your life, it _is_ true. But, perhaps, it's not the whole story.

14 months. That's how long it took for my life to change forever. Fourteen months is the time that I spent overseas, traveling and on exchange for university. My life was completely on track. I was meeting the expectations everyone had for my life. I was doing the things that everyone, myself included, had for my life.

And then, it all changed.

I was seventeen when my life changed. I was halfway through my undergraduate degree, and had what everyone kept referring to as a 'bright future' ahead of me. I was going to finish my degree, I was going to do a post-grad medicine or law degree, and then, importantly, I was going to move very, very far away from my parents. We would stay in touch, sending the obligatory cards and presents for birthdays, Christmas, mothers and fathers days, and the occasional phone call, but overall, our contact would be limited. Limited, but still there. At some point, I was going to have a boyfriend or two, and one of them would become my husband. I was going to have dogs. It was planned, and I was happy with the direction I was heading in.

As you know, I never wanted children. We've talked about it before, and I know you understand. I never fantasized about, dreamed of, or even thought about having children. The plan for my life was child free. Until after you were conceived, I didn't want children. I saw them as messy, sticky, and I was selfish with my time. I didn't want anything that would distract me from my goals. You changed that, altering me irrevocably.

Growing up, my parents thought I was perfect, that I could do no wrong. My quiet attitude, my penchant for knuckling under and taking the route of least resistance, my good grades and a myriad of other little things made them think I was a saint. But, my parents were clueless. I was not a saint as a child. I was in classes with people three and four years older than me. So, I was exposed to a lot of things earlier than I should have been. My first sexual experience was when I was fourteen, in my final year of college. You must remember that I was educated in Australia, where college is the last two years of American high school. I lost my virginity at sixteen, in the summer break between my first and second years of university. You know this already, we've talked about it and what it means for you and your life, but I will reiterate some things. Everything I did was consensual and legal. I was living in a state where the age of consent was 16. I knew the consequences and the risks. Maybe I should have waited, but as they say, only hindsight is twenty-twenty.

As you know, I went on the pill when I was sixteen. I used condoms religiously. Both were activities that remained secret from my parents. As did the fact that I was sexually active. Contraception is a sin in their eyes, and an unnecessary item anyway. My parents firmly held the belief that sex should only be for procreation, as part of a stable marriage between a man and a woman. To have sex outside these instances is a sin. I never questioned their beliefs. I simply made up my own mind, and ignored them.

Here's the thing though, I liked boys, and once I tried it, I liked sex. So, I wanted to keep having it. I knew, even then, that neither the pill or condoms are perfect contraceptives. Abstinence is literally the only way to avoid pregnancy. But, using both the pill and condoms together minimises the risk of pregnancy to a tiny, tiny percentage. I don't know what the statistics are now, but at the time (and I still remember these numbers, after all these years) the real life failure rate for the pill was eight percent, and for condoms was twelve percent. The ideal rates, the ones that they tell you and that get listed on the boxes, they are the failure rates if you live in a perfect, pristine laboratory, take them at exactly the same time every day, and basically don't include the human factor in their use. Using the pill and condoms together gives a 0.0096% failure rate. Sounds nice and low, and unlikely, right?

Well, what really means is that for for every ten thousand times that people have sex using both condoms and the pill, ninety-six times someone will end up pregnant anyway.

I was one of those ninety-six.

In Australia, it is almost a rite of passage that between college and university you take a gap year. I started university so young that I simply couldn't. I was fifteen, and couldn't even fly by myself, let alone stay in most hotels or hostels without a guardian. Travelling with my parents wouldn't have been the same, and they would have thought the idea was frivolous anyway. Instead, I decided to go on an exchange program during my undergrad. Because it was for study, my parents were mostly okay with the idea. Not happy enough to help me financially, but prepared to let me go. So, in order to get there, I spent the first two and a half years of my degree working my butt off. My employers knew I was much younger than any other uni student, but I worked harder than any other employee they had. I was under eighteen, so they could pay me lower wages - totally crappy for the whole saving thing, but you know, the way of the world and all - so I was good for their budgets. I studied full time and worked full time. More than full time when I was on holidays. I saved almost all my pay for the exchange. I found a university who would accept me as a third year exchange student, even though I was only seventeen. They were even a uni that had an exchange agreement with my home university, which meant I was paying my local, Australian tuition fees rather than international tuition fees. Many of the universities hadn't accepted me because I was still a minor so I would be unable to live in dorms, making it almost impossible for me to attend them. Thankfully, this one did. They didn't mind that I was still 17, they were happy for me to be a third year, and to live in dorms.

I planned to study for the northern hemisphere academic year, meaning it was across academic years in Australia. It gave me an extra long break both before and after the academic year England. I had almost 2 months between finishing first semester in Australia and needing to be on campus in England. I worked the first fourteen days straight, spent two days packing, then left. I was flying on the only airline that would let me fly as an unaccompanied minor on multiple, indirect flights with stopovers. I packed as much as I could into those six weeks. I visited four countries on three continents. In each country, I went on a bus tour, and visited friends in each country. Thanks to meeting people on exchange at my home university, the international students from college, and people I knew from the online communities I was a part of, I knew people in each of the places I visited. By the time I arrived at my dorm in England, I was exhausted and excited about the idea of meeting new people, living in the dorms and the new classes and educational system I was going to be experiencing.

My time travelling was perfect.

You've seen the photos. In each of them, I'm smiling happily at the camera. I look freer than I do in any photo taken by my parents. Even now I can see the signs of stress and strain around my eyes in those earlier photos. Travelling was an amazing, exhilarating experience. I saw amazing sights, and met wonderful people. I neurotically catalogued my experience through thousands of photos, which I fully planned on boring my friends back home with. I visited New Zealand, and toured the North Island. I visited Japan, and saw stone Buddhas, Hiroshima and Tokyo.

The final tour before I headed to England was through Canada and the US. I met a guy I immediately clicked with. We had a fling that tour, and it was magical. He was gorgeous, just turned eighteen, and about to start his degree in the fall. He hadn't chosen his major yet, and I felt envious of his relaxed, carefree spirit. His whole life, all those choices were ahead of him, unfixed. His path wasn't in place and he could go anywhere, do anything he wanted. He was a southern gentleman, Texan, and I was captivated by his drawl as he spoke. We both knew that we weren't going to see each other again after the tour. It was a heady, intoxicating feeling, and allowed me to be far freer emotionally and sexually than I had been before.

I have always been shy, and my accelerated education didn't really equip me with the best social skills. It was almost worse then, because I was so young and unsure of myself. It would take me days to warm to new people enough to have a conversation with them, to divulge anything about myself. But, when the Texan sat down next to me, I felt immediately at ease. We talked about everything and nothing, sitting next to each other on the bus, parting only to sleep. The first night on tour was the only one that I spent alone. I won't go into details, I mean, that could scar you for life, but the whole experience was magical. We flirted shamelessly and eventually well, further than that. Waking up next to him was perfect and it opened my eyes to a new possibility for my life. I could imagine myself waking up next to a man like that for the rest of my life. I could go into excruciating details about what happened, about our time together but I won't. I hope that you find a boy who you can loose yourself in, loose your thoughts in. It is an amazing feeling, one that I cannot describe.

We talked more those ten days than I think I had with anyone I had ever known until then. We talked about anything and everything. We talked about books and movies and music, about politics and education, about the environment and so many other things. He surprised me often and easily. He would tease me, and I would tease back. It felt perfect, the little bubble we spent the tour in.

We fell into an easy routine during the tour. He would sleep with me in my room. We would both sleep together and, you know, _sleep together._ I would go into detail, but I really don't think you want to hear the intimate details of your conception. In the morning, I would wake earlier than him, shower and get breakfast for us, finding a local coffee shop and patisserie. He would wake up and shower while I was out. During the days, we would walk around the places on our tours together, sometimes holding hands but always close to each other. Each night, we would take a walk, and then have sex back at the hotel. We visited Ottawa, Montreal, Boston, Ithaca and Niagara Falls before returning to Toronto. My flight left Toronto at 7pm the final day of the tour, and that morning we had blissful sex before boarding the bus.

Kissing him goodbye, I cried. Not a little movie friendly single tear down the cheek, but an ugly, blotchy, nose running mess of tears. Leaving him hurt far more than I ever expected to. I understood that we were returning to our real lives, but part of me wanted to stay with him, to run away from my life in Australia, the path that had been forged for me. A sense of duty stopped me. I was expected in England, all the arrangements had been made. Jasper was expected back home. We had to leave the little bubble we had created. I had this notion of how romantic it was to leave everything like that. I left him with my copy of the Gunslinger, and he gave me a cowboy hat that sat below my eyes. It now sits in a hat box in my wardrobe. It has travelled with me every time we moved, and every now and then I take it out and hold it, inhaling the long gone scent and thinking of your father. The hat was perfect the perfect memento for me to remember him by. We had decided to keep our entire relationship casual, and while we had talked about anything and everything, there was one piece of information that we had failed to exchange.

Our surnames. I was Lilly X, and he was Jasper X. Despite the attraction we felt, we both realised that it wasn't going to go any further. I deeply regret this decision, regret that it meant he wasn't in your life. But I can't change the past. With no ties to bind us, there was no need to exchange surnames.

Somehow, despite all the time we spent together on the tour, we only had one photo together. As I sat on the tarmac waiting for my plane to take off, I stared at his picture. He was gorgeous, and our encounter had been perfect.

Authors Note: To my dear friends and family. If you should stumble across this, and read it one day, and recognise parts of yourselves in my characters, it is because you were my inspiration. For this story, I have shamelessly borrowed people from my life, characteristics of them, playing with them to my own advantage. But, none of my characters are my friends or family, please remember that. This story started as a 'what if' that had been playing in my head, before it became this monstrosity. And remember, this is a story. It is a work of fiction, not of truth.

Statistics from: . /cid/131

It is actually fairly rare in Australia to skip grades. Not impossible, just very rare. So, I am taking some liberties with my home education system. Because of the timeline I wanted to set out, I need to have Lilly skip three grades. She graduated college at the age of 15. She turned 16 in her first year of university.

I know I mis spell fairee whenever I write it, but I am being consistent with my pen name (and I have been spelling fairee like that for over 15 years now). Please forgive me for that one idiosyncracy.

The Gunslinger is part of Stephen King's Dark Tower series. It is amazing, and really is my favourite book series. It's a fantasy series, and about the only stephen king book I can read, the horror books scare the bejeezus out of me.


	3. Book One Lilly - C2 - Realisations

My darling girl, when I arrived in England I took five days to travel from Heathrow airport to my university. As I travelled, I visited friends, and tried not to dwell on the experience with your father.

Arriving at university, I set about making my room my own. I was glad that my English university hadn't adopted the American version of dorms, and that I had a room to myself. As I attended the orientation session, I felt unusually tired, but put it down to having changed time zones again, and waking up at five each morning. As classes started, my body clock kicked into overdrive, and I seemed to want to sleep all the time. I felt sick, but as half of the people on my floor had what was referred to as the freshers flu, I put it down to simply displaying abnormal symptoms of whatever they all had.

In the second week, I had a massive craving for brownies, which is one of the best things to happen to me over that week. As you know, my brownie recipe makes a _lot_ of brownies, so I usually only make it for parties where I can feed it to other people. I decided feeding people brownies was the best way to meet the other people on my floor. After making the brownies, I went door to door offering my floor mates brownies. Some happily accepted, some looked wary, and others were out. But, at the second last door, I found someone who not only seemed to want some, but who drew me into her room and started talking. We talked for almost five hours, snacking on brownies and getting to know each other. I smiled as I realised that I had been in her home city only a few weeks earlier on my tour - she lived in Ottawa, a city I had gotten a great vibe from.

She explained that while her name was Guinevere, she usually went by Vere. Her parents had Welsh background, and an obsession with the legend of King Arthur: her brothers were named Arthur and Lancelot. Her sister got off lightly, being named Anna, who is not only a minor character, but also a more normal name.

As we talked and ate, it got darker, until we realised that not only was it fully dark, but it was dinner time. Neither of us felt like eating anything after the brownies, so we wandered around the campus, for an hour. Returning to my room, my fatigue returned with a vengeance, and I fell into bed, sleeping for almost fourteen straight hours.

Waking up the next morning, I felt the most refreshed I had since arriving in England almost three weeks earlier. As I attended my classes, I could feel the fatigue creeping back, and that night slept for almost twelve hours. Over the next few days, my sleep patterns returned to normal, and the symptoms of the fresher flu passed. I felt like myself again, and found that not only had I managed to make friends with Vere, the guy down the hall from me, Addison, seemed to have become a friend. I loved him immediately, thoroughly amused by his flamboyant nature, the way he chided my about my dress sense. In my defense, one he refused to accept, half my clothing was still making its slow journey to me from Australia. He didn't accept this, insisting on taking me shopping to get me looking 'sexy and fuckable,' as he so eloquently put it.

I soon learnt that neither Vere or Ad were able to cook, so I took them under my wing, cooking for them. They paid for ingredients while I provided the finished meals. Vere didn't eat meat, so I didn't cook any for nearly three weeks after taking them under my wings. Ad complained a bit, missing the meat, but ate everything I cooked so happily that I didn't really take it to heart. Part of the complaining was just his personality, and his penchant for making a fuss. For most of the time I was a living in the dorms in England I didn't eat any meat, and I barely ate any while I was travelling. So really, it's thanks to your aunt Vere that I became a vegetarian, finding that I had no desire to eat meat after my long hiatus. I relaxed the vegetarianism as you got older, adding chicken and fish to our diets, but I was never able to eat red meat again. Once my sleep habits returned to normal, Ad, Vere and I fell into a routine where we ate late, after the kitchen had cleared, so I wasn't around when anyone else cooking meat over the first few weeks of uni either. I was glad, because while I would eat red meat, the smell of it raw was unpleasant to me. It always has been, but living with my parents I didn't have a choice in the matter. They set the menu, and I had to go along with it. The Sunday at the end of our fourth week at university, Ad decided he wanted a traditional roast - beef, potatoes, yorkshire puddings, gravy, the lot. I agreed, knowing that a roast was minimal preparation, and therefore minimal time dealing with raw red meat compared to other red meat dishes. I doubled the quantities of vegetables, and decided to make a stuffing cake as well, so that Vere also had something to eat. I had all the vegetables peeled and ready to go, and the stuffing cake in a bowl waiting to be put in the oven, when I pulled out the small roast we had bought.

Unwrapping the cut of local beef, I was assaulted by the smell of the meat. Dropping it onto the chopping board, I ran to the bathrooms and proceeded to empty my stomach. Groaning, I went in search of Ad. There was no way that I was going to be able to finish preparing the meat, and it couldn't be left out. I assumed that my reaction was simply due to the fact I had not handled red meat since leaving Australia two and a half months earlier.

Sitting on the opposite end of the kitchen, I talked Ad through the preparation of the meat, making him wipe the chopping boards down three times before I would go anywhere near them.

Over the next month, random things would make me throw up, things that usually didn't have any effect on me. I grew used to this, assuming that it was a lingering symptom of the fresher flu. Often, I would forget about these incidences during the day, as I otherwise felt fine. I was sleeping well, my appetite was fine and I was keeping up with my classes. Thinking that I might be having an allergic reaction, I carefully analysed my diet for almost three weeks, unable to find any common factor.

In early November, after once again throwing up, I realised that I had not had my period since mid August. This was not unusual for me, as I skipped at least once a year, despite being on the pill. I am deeply sorry if I have passed this trait on to you, my dear. However, I had skipped in both September and October, which I never did. I never skipped twice in a row. As I lay on the cool bathroom tiles, waiting for my nausea to subside, I thought about this fact. I had already decided that the nausea was probably not a food allergy, and coupled with the fact I had missed my period two months in a row, I could only come to one conclusion.

I must be pregnant.

The though horrified me, and I burst into tears, curling up into the fetal position on the floor. I'm not sure how long I lay there, sobbing, but suddenly Vere was talking to me, asking what was wrong. I sat up, struggling with muscles that had seized from the cold and crying. Trying to collect my breathing enough to talk to her, I looked into her face, filled with concern.

"I *sob* th-think *hic* I *sob* might b-be *sob* pre-pregnan-nant," I sobbed, leaning forward and burying my face in her curls. On the first day we met, we had talked about so many different things, one of them being children. I had made it very clear to her my opinions of pregnancy and having children. As she rubbed my back, offering comfort, she suggested that we go to my bedroom. She almost had to carry me there, I was shaking so badly from the cold of lying on the tiles and the sobs wracking my body.

Still sobbing, I let her lead me back to my room. On the way, she knocked on Ad's door, asking him to follow us. Seeing the state I was in, he wordlessly followed, shutting the door behind us as Vere led me onto my bed, sitting down and pulling me close to her.

Turning to Ad, she explained the situation. Despite his look of concern, I could see no judgement on his face. Quietly, Vere asked him to go into town, and get some pregnancy tests. "Three or four, and different brands?" she requested. Nodding, Ad left the room.

I had no concept of time passing, but at least 2 hours must have passed before Ad walked back into my room. Vere was still sitting on my bed, but I had lain down, my head in her lap. She had pulled my blanket over me, and sat stroking my hair. Ad passed her the bag that I assumed contained the tests.

"I got five different brands, I hope that's okay?" he asked nervously, his eyes flicking from hers to mine.

"It is, thanks," Vere replied. Pausing from stroking my hair, she examined each of the boxes. "Lilly, have you urinated yet today?"

Thinking hard, I shook my head. My breathing had normalised, and I was able to reply without my words hitching. "Not today. I was sick first. Then you found me."

"Prefect," she replied. "Ad, do you want to wait here? We just need to make a quick trip to the ladies."

I saw him nod as I numbly got our of bed and followed Vere to the bathroom. She handed me three tests and a cup.

"You need to fill the cup and pee on the ends of these sticks. Think you can manage that?"

Nodding, I headed into the toilet stall. My bladder gave a cheer of relief as I filled the cup and marked the sticks, as instructed. Opening the door to the stall, I handed the cup and sticks to Vere before washing my hands.

I turned back to her, surprised to hear a toilet flushing again. "We didn't need everything from the cup, just enough to dip these two into," she said in explanation, dropping the cup into the bin by the door.

She carefully guided me back to my room, and I sat on the bed once more, staring numbly ahead. I could hear her talking to Ad, but I was spaced enough that I couldn't make out the words.

They walked up to me, and sat on either side of me. Vere handed me the sticks, and I turned each of them over. All five were marked as positive.

As I stared at the sticks, I said the only thing that was in my head.

"Fuck."


	4. Books One Lilly - C3 - Planning

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

My darling, you have always been loved. But, when I found out I as pregnant with you, my entire world view shifted. I was in a state of shock, numb to the world around me. I walked through the next few days in a daze. Vere and Ad chaperoned me to and from the doctors, the pharmacist and then back to the doctor to get medical certificates for my missed classes. I felt like I had been wrapped in cotton wool, everything was fuzzy and not quite in focus. Everything sounded distant, and slightly off kilter.

In that week, the only time I had felt anything but numb was when the doctor was discussing my options with me. Not that options is really the right way to describe the conversation we had.

I had been fairly passive for the appointment, and the doctor had taken it to mean that I didn't want the baby. After the exam, she had tried to give me information packets of abortion and adoption. She gave me very little information about keeping it, merely prescribing me some vitamins and booking an appointment for me with an obstetrician.

She had explained that I was about ten weeks along, so I could no longer have a medical abortion. Instead, I could have a suction abortion until fifteen weeks, and a surgical abortion until eighteen weeks.

I had lost it then. Standing up, I threw the papers at her, yelling that there was no way I was having an abortion, no way that I could do that. What did she think I was?

I started firing obscenities at her, alternating between English and the few French swear words I had learnt. I saw her take a step backwards, and felt Vere's arm on mine, pulling me out the door. Ad was apologising, trying desperately to make up for my outburst.

After the doctors appointment, I had reverted to my safe state of numbness. I didn't realise until much later that the second doctor I saw was a different person to the first, was my gynecologist and obstetrician. I took the pills when Ad or Veretold me to, mechanically moving through my days. I continued to cook for them, but refused to deal with any meat. Vere didn't mind this turn of events, but I think Ad missed the meat.

Seven days after Vere found me sobbing on the bathroom floor, I finally snapped out of my haze. I still can't tell you what triggered it, but suddenly, I decided that I needed to start actually dealing with the situation. To be actively involved in the pregnancy, not just existing on autopilot.

Both Vere and Ad seemed extremely relieved to see me acting normally again. I was relieved that my morning sickness - I had finally realised that the bouts of nausea were morning sickness - seemed to have passed. Which made sense, I was eleven weeks pregnant, almost through the first trimester. I was relieved that I wasn't showing yet, wanting to get some practical things completed before I started to tell people.

With Ad and Vere accompanying me for moral support, I talked to my college advisor, Kate. The university I was on exchange with aligned all of its students with one of the seven undergraduate colleges, or the postgraduate college. Mine was one of the smaller colleges, and I had met my college advisor once before, in the first week of term. She had seemed nice at the time, but I felt intimidated and scared to meet with her and tell her about my situation.

Our meeting went well, and she had left me feeling positive about my decision. We had talked through my due date and my class requirements, along with my academic and housing issues. The university in England worked on a trimester system, with two teaching terms and one exam term. I was due about half way through the exam term, but didn't want to have to sit any exams for fear of going into early labour. Knowing that exchange students unable to attend the exam term were able to write additional essays instead, I asked Kate if it would be possible for me to do that with all my classes. She said that while she would have to check with my teachers, this didn't seem like it would present a problem. There was a precedent after all. She suggested that we set a tentative final due date for all my assessment six weeks before the you were due.

Accommodation was a different issue. I had already paid for my dorm room until the end of the exam term, but was unsure that I would be able to stay there after giving birth. I was in a standard residence, not in one designed for families. Kate had written some notes, saying that she would get back to me. She needed to check the specific regulations, and get in touch with the residence officer for my college. But, even if I was unable to stay in residences for the exam term, she was pretty sure that my payment would be refunded, due to 'special circumstances.' Reassured that I would be able to complete my academic year without jeopardising my visa, I treated Ad and Vere to a meal out, to thank them for their support and help. I knew that I would never have been able to do this without them.

Ravenously, I began reading everything I could about pregnancy. I had been unawares for almost the entire first trimester, so I felt unprepared, unsure of how to proceed. I felt so young, and I guess I was, pregnant at seventeen. The only thing I was sure of was that I was going to get bigger, some time soon. I hoped that I would show really late in the pregnancy, but knew that there was no guarantee of this.

Feeling more proactive about the pregnancy, I slightly altered my morning routine. Now, instead of the baby oil I usually rubbed into the skin on my stomach and breasts, I used BioOil, hoping it would prevent massive stretch marks. I also started to pay far more attention to what I was eating, trying to ensure that I was getting enough nutrients to feed my baby.

You.

It was still strange for me to say, and I had no idea how I was going to tell anyone at home. I was scared of my parents disapproval, of my friends reactions. My parents were strict Catholics, believing in no sex before marriage and no abortions. I was pretty sure that having an abortion was a worse sin in their eyes that the loss of my virginity, but it was a close call. They didn't know about any of the guys I had slept with, or even any of the guys I had dated. My father had once threatened to disown me if he ever found a boy in my room. I didn't know how serious he was about that, but figured that falling pregnant was worse than having a boy in my bedroom. I knew that I should tell my parents, but I kept putting the conversation off, telling myself I would ring them the next day, or the one after that.

Because I had realised my pregnancy so late in the first trimester, the original doctor had scheduled me the first available ultrasound appointment, in the middle of what she assured me was the twelfth week of my pregnancy. I went, apprehensive of what I would find, scared that the pregnancy wasn't developing properly and would have to be aborted.

My fears were baseless however. I went, once again with Vere and Ad in tow, and the ultrasound showed a normally developing baby. The ob-gyn I had been referred to, Dr Masen ("But call me Liz, dear") was the motherly type, and I warmed to her immediately. Or, she was the film mother type. Warm and cuddly, caring and beautiful. So different from my actual mother. Dr Liz performed a nuchal translucency scan, which showed almost no likelihood of Down Syndrome. While she recommended I also have a diagnostic test, it was not compulsory. I decided that I didn't want to risk the one percent change I had of miscarriage from the diagnostic tests, so didn't have a CVS or amniocentesis test.

My eighteenth birthday was a strange occasion. Usually the first time that I could legally drink (the drinking age in both Australia and the UK is eighteen), I couldn't drink because of being pregnant. I've never been big on celebrating birthdays, and would have happily missed this one as well. But, Vere and Ad decided that I couldn't miss it, that I was going to celebrate.

Somehow, they managed to organise a surprise party for me, with my friends from the orchestra and my classes. I still don't know how they did it, but it was really fun. I hadn't told anyone about my pregnancy yet, so Ad and Vere kindly provided me with 'replacement' drinks, so it looked like I was being the good little eighteen-year-old, without hurting you. I made sure to drink slowly, so that I wouldn't have to go through the charade of being drunk. That was just going too far.

All the gifts I got were thoughtful, and sincere, and small enough to take home. My parents, as usual, sent me a nice, religious, Catholic gift. Or, more correctly, what they thought was a nice religious, Catholic gift. I didn't believe then, any more than I do now. For my eighteenth, it was a pair of gold and garnet cross earrings. Beautiful, but not something I would ever wear. And, of course, not that I even wear gold. At least for my eighteenth, I didn't have to act surprised and happy with whatever religious thing they gave me. I still have the earrings somewhere. I've never worn them, but I feel oddly sentimental about them. They were the last birthday gift my parents ever gave me.

As Christmas approached, I started to worry about what I would be doing. My parents had decided to spend the summer doing missionary work, thus leaving me to my own devices for the holiday. Sensing my apprehension, Vere had enquired about what was on my mind. As I explained to her, I cursed the pregnancy hormones screwing with my emotions. The simple action of talking about Christmas, and not having anyone to spend it with, made me burst into tears. Again.

Smiling, Vere invited me to join in on her plans. Her brothers would be across from Canada, and they were planning to do a bit of travel, and meet up with family friends in Paris and Madrid. With her offer, my emotions once more flipped, and I found myself smiling at her, happy and at ease.

While the airlines we were using allowed pregnant women to travel up to thirty five weeks, I made an appointment for one week before we were due to fly, just to check that everything was going okay. Knowing how young I was, Dr Liz had tried to find out as much of my history as possible. When I went in, Dr Liz smiled at me, having heard the full situation including about your father, and my parents religious beliefs.

"You're lucky to have such dear friends, Lilly. Those two are really standing behind you. Don't forget that. They will support you no matter what, I think. And, you are fine to fly. This is my emergency medical mobile number, so if you have any problems or concerned while you are in Spain or France please call me." She handed me a piece of paper with a neatly written phone number on it. Smiling, I left her office, glad to have found such a supportive doctor. She made me almost feel like I could do this, that I could be a single mum.

When I returned to my dorm, I found a note taped to my door. Opening it, I read with growing excitement. Smiling widely, I raced down the hall to Ad's room, knocking on his door and dragging him after me to Vere's room. Barging through her open door and shutting it behind me, I handed her the note.

"I can stay! Kate has worked it all out for us! Eeep!" I couldn't help but bounce slightly in excitement. Until I received Kate's note, I hadn't realised just how much the worry about accommodation had been weighing on my shoulders.

"We know, Kate came and talked to us while you were out. She wanted to talk to you in person, but was leaving for her holidays this afternoon, and we weren't sure when you would be back from your appointment with Liz." Smiling, she pulled me into a hug. "There were going to be two empty rooms on this floor for the rest of the year, and Kate has organised it so that they not only stay empty, but act as a buffer. Cos you are already right at the end of the corridor, you don't have to move, but Ad and I will have to move rooms, and so do the people next to you, but it means that we will have the rooms next to each other, and when the baby is born, you can bring it home here. You can't stay any longer than the end of exam term, but the little one should be a month old by then and able to fly, all things going well."

"And if things don't go well, then you can just come home with me until you are able to fly or whatever," Ad interjected.

Smiling at my two friends, I pulled them both into a hug. "Today is totally a great day. I can fly, and I have somewhere to bring my baby home to! Lets go celebrate, who feels like some decadent cake and milkshakes at A Slice of Heaven?" Nodding, both my friends followed me to the cafe, and we sat idly chatting about random, insignificant stuff while we ate and drank.

When the term came to an end, Ad and Vere eagerly packed up their stuff and moved into the newly vacated rooms next to mine. I fell a little in love with Kate over that week. Not only had she arranged so that I could stay on campus when my baby was born, but she had arranged access to the two empty rooms for us. She said that we were allowed to move any of the furniture, so long as it was returned at the end of the year.

Knowing that sleep was going to be a problem for me over the coming months, I took advantage of the extra furniture, and moved my desk out of my room, into one of the spare rooms, and moved an armchair and extra bed in. The two single bed frames meant that I had a much bigger area to sleep on. I invested in some King sized bedding, and including a mattress overlay to hide the join in the mattresses.

Three days after the end of term, Vere and I flew to Paris where we met up with her brothers and family friends. We spent a week there, exploring and being tourists, before catching a sleeper train to Madrid. Vere, Lancelot, Arthur and I filled an entire cabin, making me less nervous about sleeping on the train. We spent another week in Madrid, before flying to Edinburgh for New Year's Eve. Ad was meeting us there, and together we were planning to celebrate Hogmanay. We had found a great little B&B, and the owners were so helpful, giving us advice on what to see, where to go, what to eat and when to do it all. Despite knowing that I had to be back at uni by the fourth for an ultrasound, I had a wonderful time over Christmas, not missing my parents once. Actually, I didn't ever miss my parents while I was away that year. I was more expecting to miss some of the Christmas traditions, the Christmas eve dinner and things like that than I was expecting to miss my parents themselves.

As we parted company with Vere's brothers, and headed back to campus, I felt a pang of guilt. We had parted armed with each other's contact information, were facebook friends, had phone numbers and email addresses, last names. Why could I not have done the same thing with Jasper? I wondered.

In the fortnight between arriving back on campus, and school starting, Vere, Ad and I slipped into a routine. I was craving bacon and maple syrup, pancakes and french toast. Each morning, I would wake up and prepare a huge hot breakfast, waking them up with hot coffee (which smelt amazing, but I had to avoid caffeine) and the breakfasts. We would move off to do our separate things during the days, which for me was furiously writing essays, completing the first term subjects. In the evenings, we would congregate in my room, watching movies or just sitting and talking crap.

As well as my schoolwork, I was busy writing lists of everything I needed for you, everything I needed to do. One list still only had a single item on it. Tell my parents. I didn't know why I was still putting it off, but I was. Vere had asked me about it, but I couldn't bring myself to pick up the phone and make that call. I was terrified of my parents reaction, but I kept telling myself it was simply that they were still off doing their missionary work. My reactions and fear was justified, in the end.

When the second term started in the middle of January, I still hadn't started showing. I was about twenty weeks along, and I simply looked like I had gained a few kilos over winter. Then, almost overnight, in the second week of term I had a noticeable baby bump. My jeans still fit, but I wasn't sure how long for.

In each of the classes I was taking that term, I had discussed with the teacher about an alternate assessment plan. Most of these involved writing an extra essay, although one of them required me to run a seminar later in the term. I was dreading that, but at the same time oddly exhilarated. The class was small, eight people plus the teacher, and they all seemed friendly. This term, I only had one class that gave straight lectures. I made sure to sit at the back of the lecture theatre, knowing that at some point soon I would be needing to go to the bathroom constantly. That class was also the only one where I didn't explain my situation. All my other classes were fifteen people or less, and I explained that I needed a seat by the door because I was pregnant and needed to go to the toilet all the time. My classmates were accepting of this, and I was glad not to be judged. Now that I was showing, it was almost easier to tell people. I looked the part, so it was more believable than before.

Between attending my classes and doing my school work, doctors appointments, as well as the Bradley method classes I was attending at the local hospital, I was constantly busy. Ad and Vere were both attending the Bradley classes with me, and were both going to be present at the birth, and to help me afterwards. In the evenings, Vere, Ad and I continued to have movie nights, catching up on the days events.

They felt like my family, more than my blood relations ever had.

As I continued to grow, I found it was taking me longer and longer to get anything physical done. Near the end of February, we had a week off classes - a study break. Instead of studying, I used it as a shopping break. I had decided that before I got huge and couldn't face the stores and couldn't fit behind the wheel to drive a car, Ad, Vere and I should go on a shopping expedition. I was the only one of us who could drive, so neither of them were going to be able to take over when I got too big. We borrowed a car from a floor mate who was going to Russia for the study break, and set off. We decided to make a decent trip of it, taking the Thursday and Friday before and the Monday after off, giving ourselves twelve days to explore the country a little. There were a couple of outlet malls I wanted to visit, and we had arranged to visit Tintagel and Stonehenge before heading back home. The drive was slow, mainly because I had to stop every hour or so to empty my bladder. Ad and Vere didn't seem to mind though, and we had an awesome trip.

At the malls, I had managed to pick up most of the things I would need for you, and both Ad and Vere had insisted on buying me other things. Knowing that my visa expired after the school year officially ended, I didn't want to invest in too many big ticket items - strollers, car seats and so on. Instead, I found my two favourite purchases. At one of the outlets, there had been hug-a-bub baby slings half price, and at another there were traditional ring slings at three for the pice of two. Knowing how useful each of these would be, I eagerly bought them. I also got baby clothes, accessories, toys, and bottles. I knew that babies needed a lot of stuff, but I wanted to minimise what I bought, rather than having to ship it home. I visited hundreds of thrift stores to find your clothing, knowing that I would be donating it back in a few short months time anyway.

By the time we arrived back on campus, it seemed that everyone knew that I was pregnant. I was showing more and more, and grateful that summer was coming. With summer on the way, I was able to be less reliant on jeans for warmth. Most of my skirts still fit me by sitting low on my hips, below my growing bump, and I had stocked up on basics like long singlets and t-shirts to cover the ever expanding bulge. Vere had found me a collection of the most comfortable skirts I had ever worn. They stretched to fit my belly, I could wear them as a dress if I wanted, and they were organic cotton. Everything I could need, in one handy skirt. I still buy them today, and it makes me so happy that the company is still in business and selling them. They sent me a thank you gift a few years back for my loyal patronage - it included a handwritten not from the company's founder, saying that I was one of their first customers, and the most loyal. It was such a little thing, and would only have taken minutes of her time, but it made me feel good reading it.

My pregnancy was advancing well, and Dr Liz was happy with my weight and progress. I was feeling more and more sluggish, but knew that this was normal. My ultrasounds were normal, and I had decided I wanted to be surprised by your sex. I had mainly purchased green and purple and lemon clothes on my shopping expedition, knowing that I could dress you in both colours regardless of your sex.

I was eating more and more, but thankfully was not yet experiencing baby brain. So, when Vere dragged me off campus one day in March, claiming that I had forgotten a massage booked weeks ago, I was mildly concerned. The massage parlor had several options for pregnant women, and it seemed that I had not only booked, but paid for one of these nearly a month earlier.

As we returned to campus, I felt relaxed and pampered, no longer worried that my brain was beginning to go. Even if I had forgotten I'd booked the appointment, the experience had been totally worth it. Walking back into my room, I was shocked to find it filled with people. I turned to Vere, who grinned wickedly.

"Surprise! We thought you needed a baby shower."

Looking around the room, I found myself surrounded by my friends from my classes. As I felt myself begin to tear up, I was gently pushed to sit on one of the armchairs.

It was surrounded by presents.

Overawed, I was unable to speak, instead gazing around the room at my friends. Vere and Ad walked up, taking the seats one either side of me. Gently placing one of the presents in my hands, Ad encouraged me to open it.

"We don't have games organised, but if you don't start opening presents soon, we can come up with some. And they will be embarrassing," he said, emphasising the word embarrassing. Blushing I quickly complied. I wasn't a big fan of being the centre of attention, so anything I could do to avoid embarrassing baby shower games was fine by me. "Plus," he added, almost as an after thought, "the quicker you open presents, the quicker we can get to the cake."

Smiling, I began opening the presents, thanking each person for each one. My friends had gotten me the most amazingly thoughtful gifts, all designed for travel. So, I didn't have to worry how I was going to get them home. After all the gifts had been opened, Vere handed me a final envelope. "This is from all of us. It is a prepaid box, up to thirty kilos, to send back to Australia. You just need to ring the number at the bottom and someone will come and pack it for you, and take it away to be sent."

Tearing up, I threw my arms around her neck. "Thank you," I sobbed. "Thanks to all of you." One of them handed me a box of tissues.

As I calmed down, Vere and Ad clearly decided that it was time to move on with the event. "Who's up for cake?" they asked almost simultaneously, laughing as Ad claimed jinx.

Everyone clamoured to help them, and soon my room was covered with food. Not only was there my favourite cake from A Slice of Heaven ("A gift from Tony the owner. He said to wish you congratulations," Ad confided), they had baked my brownies, and created a huge fruit salad. Everything was served with ice cream and whipped cream, and to me, it was pure heaven.

As plates of food were passed around, I noticed that one of my walls had been covered with a white sheet. When I enquired about this, Ad jumped up. "Oh! I almost forgot! Onto the next stage of the festivities!"

I was ushered onto my bed, and propped up with pillows before being joined by my friends, who covered my floor, bed and arm chairs. I was handed a stack of DVDs, and told to pick. Flicking thought the collection, I pulled one out. There really was no contest. While it was not my favourite movie of all time (an honour, as you know, given to a gorgeous French movie, Spanish Apartment, and its sequel Russian Dolls), I loved it.

"The Holiday it is!"

I looked up, and saw that there was a projector mounted behind my head. "Always pays to be friends with the geeks, didn't you know?" he said, winking. If I knew him, I guessed that he was more than friends with some of them. Lucky bastard, I hadn't been with anyone since Jasper.

As I settled back to watch the movie, it dawned on me that I really could do this, I really could be a single mother, that despite what my parents thought, I was going to fill your life with love and affection.


	5. Book One Lilly - C4 - Birth

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

My beautiful daughter, the time before your birth was filled with my friends, two people who loved me dearly. I was so blessed to meet them to have them in my life.

Over the holidays between the second term and exam term, Ad, Vere and I went on one final trip. We decided to skip any trip to the continent, as I was only able to fly for the first two weeks of our month long holiday. Dr Liz (and airline regulations) refused to allow me any longer. So, we flew to Ireland, with plans to catch a ferry back to the UK.

I grew up in a drought zone. The drought was declared when I was about eight, and by the time I turned eighteen, had been going on for almost ten years. It lasted a total of thirteen years. Having lived in a drought zone for so long in Australia, I am still amazed by anywhere that rains enough to have luscious, green grass. Ireland had green grass in abundance. We travelled by a mix of bus and train, as well as hiring a car for the first week of the trip. I had insisted on this, knowing that I would be too large to fit behind the steering wheel after that, and wanting to see the cliffs of Moher. All the accommodation was a few kilometres at least from the cliffs, and there was no way that I could walk that far any more.

Vere insisted we visit the Blarney stone, so I dutifully (and slowly) climbed the steps to the roof. I even kissed the stone, being carefully held by the lovely old gentleman guarding the stone. Amazed at the photograph, I bought it despite the outrageous cost. I hoped that my kiss would give you the gift of the gab, something I was sorely lacking.

Since I had started showing, I had refused to let anyone take pictures of me that went any lower than my bust. The head shots allowed me to post the photos for my parents to see, without having to tell them about my pregnancy. Ad and Vere both frowned at my decision, but went along with it. The only exception to the rule were the photos I had Vere take every morning. In the photos, I was wearing only my bra and underwear, and I planned to compile them into a film strip eventually. Each day my belly got a touch bigger, and it was amazing to see the transformation. I had had her start taking them the day I snapped out of my daze.

During the Ireland trip, Vere and Ad were careful not to let me exert myself too much. They had clearly been talking to Dr Liz about me, and while I was touched at their love, I sometimes wished that they would stop mollycoddling me. I choose to hold my tongue though. In each destination, we had arranged triple share rooms. Occasionally, this meant three single beds, but usually it meant a double and a single. They insisted I take the double each time, and would alternate who shared with me and my kicking, blanket stealing and bed hogging. I loved them a little bit more for that.

In the month before I gave birth to you, my darling, I was uncomfortable just about all the time. Dr Liz had assured me I was in a heathy, normal weight range for pregnancy, but I felt huge. I was glad not to have class, or assessment to deal with. Instead, I busied myself planning what I would do after you were born. All going textbook perfect, I had a month between giving birth and having to vacate my residence. Ad once again assured me that if I needed to, could come live with him for a little while. Vere also offered that I could come and stay with her after the baby was born, once she returned to Canada. After the exam term finished, she was embarking on a month long Contiki tour around Europe with her best friend from Canada.

I wasn't ready to head back to Australia yet, having planned to travel for about 6 months before I did. My home university had already approved my semester deferment, although the reasons were now drastically different. What had started as 6 months to go traveling was now a new born baby. I decided that I should simply go ahead with my travel plans, but with you, my baby in tow. I also cut the trip short, deciding to travel for 4 months, rather than the original six. This would give me more time to find a job when I got back to Australia, something I knew I needed to do to support you. I knew traveling with you would change my experience, but I preferred a changed experience to none at all. I greedily read guide books, plotting my trip on a map and calendar.

I learnt that I would be able to get a passport for you, and leave as planned so long as you were born within a week of the due date. Any later than that, and I would have to push back my travel plans. Normally overseas births took much longer to process, but when I had started my enquiries, I had been lucky enough to speak to a kind, grandmotherly type, Jill. She had understood my predicament, not being able to leave the UK until you had a passport, but having to leave by the expiry of my student visa. She talked me through exactly what I needed to do to get a passport in the month long window of opportunity I had, and by the time you were born I had almost all the documentation I needed. After your birth, I simply had to travel to London with you to a meeting with her at the Australian High Commission, with all the paperwork that she requested.

In my discussions with Jill, I had voiced my concerns over what to put on the birth certificate for your father's name. I wanted to acknowledge Jasper on your birth certificate, but was scared that this would create problems for me later in your life, needing his signature on things. I also worried what to do about the fact I didn't know his last name. Jill counseled me through my problems, advising me to list your father as Jasper X on your birth certificate, assuring me that this wouldn't cause me problems later in your life.

Vere and I had made plans to spend a week in Paris before she started her tour, but because I couldn't commit to a date, I booked everything as fully flexible, and checked the hotel cancellation policies very carefully. I realised that traveling with a baby was going to be drastically different to the hostelling I had originally planned, but didn't regret that. Until I got into Eastern Europe, hostels were so full of drunk Australians that I preferred not to stay in them anyway.

I continued to cook for Vere and Ad, on the proviso that they did all the shopping. I was simply not up to the bus ride home with groceries any more.

Ad and Vere took their exams as normal, but both had gotten dispensations to take an exam late if I went into labour. Both of their exams finished a week before my due date, so I really hoped that they wouldn't have to use their special allowances. The university continued to amaze me at how understanding and accommodating it was being to my situation, and I really didn't want to push my luck.

Both had finished their exams, and my due date had come and gone. I was extremely uncomfortable now, unable to find any position that was easy to sleep in. The extra weight of you in my womb was pulling at my back, causing me extreme pain as it exacerbated an existing injury. Vere had pulled a third bed frame into my bedroom, and either she or Ad slept in the room with me, occasionally waking my up to massage my back or to gently place a wheat heat pack on it.

Three days after my due date, I woke up feeling tense. I couldn't explain the feeling so pushed it to the back of my mind, choosing to monitor it before telling Ad and Vere. Four hours later, I had showered and eaten breakfast when I felt the first contraction. Wincing in pain, I rubbed my stomach. I sent a brief text message to Dr Liz telling her that I thought I had just felt my first contraction.

She quickly replied. _Wonderful Lilly. Ring me when they are 6 minutes apart. I will send a car to get you._

Smiling, I slipped my phone back in my pocket and glanced at the bag by the door. I had been packed for weeks. Dr Liz had been incredibly considerate of my situation, and had arranged that either she or another one of the doctors that worked at her practice would pick me up when I went into labour. Knowing my lack of a car, and my wish not to buy too much stuff before I went home, she had contacted one of her previous patients who had a baby that had grown out of their first car seat. She had arranged for me to borrow it, as well as a baby bath and a bassinet while I was in country. I didn't know what I would have done without her support and encouragement. In almost half of my visits, she had to comfort me, assuring me that I could do this, that I could have my baby.

Not wanting to alarm Ad or Vere, I switched on a movie and timed my contractions. When my contraction reached seven minutes apart, I went in search of my friends. I found them sitting on the balcony.

Sinking gratefully into a chair in the sunshine, I tipped my head back, basking in the unexpected warmth it was giving off. "My contractions are seven minutes apart. Dr Liz said to ring her when they were six minutes apart. Are you both ready?"

Seeing my friends jump up and start panicking, I realised that I was right in waiting to tell them. My morning had been pleasantly calm, despite the mild discomfort of the contractions. I decided that I was comfortable, and simply closed my eyes, enjoying the sunshine.

Forty-five minutes later, my contraction had increased to once every six minutes, and Vere rang Dr Liz.

"Liz will be here in about fifteen minutes. We should start moving downstairs." I nodded, as Ad moved to help me get up. Vere disappeared off, reappearing with my bag as well as bags for herself and Ad. "I let Jaimee know that we are off. She says good luck."

Smiling, I slowly waddled down the stairs. Ad walked beside me, supporting my left arm as I gripped the bannister with my right. The four flights of stairs had become increasingly dangerous for me as my belly expanded, rendering me unable to see my feet.

When we got to the bottom of the stairs, I opened the door to see Dr Liz standing there, smiling at me. As she approached, she opened her arms, drawing me into a warm hug.

She turned to Ad and Vere. "Got everything?" Seeing them nod, she helped me into the car, moving the passenger seat completely back to accommodate my bulky form. As we drove, I inhaled, noticing for the first time the lavender and rosemary scent of Dr Liz's car. Tapping something on one of her air vents, she explained. "The lavender helps me relax after a long day at work, and the rosemary just smells like home. I thought you might appreciate them."

Smiling, I nodded before replying. "They smell great, Dr Liz."

As we arrived at the hospital, I was whipped into a wheelchair, and wheeled into the maternity wing as my friends filled out my admission paperwork. I changed into my hospital gown, and was strapped up to the monitors. My friends arrived, sitting by my bedside. Dr Liz and I had discussed that while I didn't want to use drugs, because of the pre existing back injury, we would see how I felt during labour. She had advised me of the critical periods, and that I would reach a point of no return, where I could not be administered an epidural or other pain relief medication.

Soon after we arrived, my contractions began to speed up, my cervix dilated to the full ten centimeters. My contractions had evened out, and Dr Liz told me that I should start to push. With Ad and Vere by my side, holding my hands and encouraging me, I began the most painful thing I had ever experienced. The pain was intense, but I knew that it wouldn't last long. After what felt like hours, but was probably just minutes, Dr Liz told me that my baby's head was crowning. I gave a final push, and Dr Liz eased your shoulders out, delivering the small child into the world.

Smiling, Dr Liz told me that my daughter was perfect. She had the ten fingers and ten toes she needed. Vere cut the umbilical cord, and you were passed to me. You were beautiful and perfect.

As I looked into your eyes, I realised that keeping you was the best decision I had ever made.

I was in love.


	6. Book One Lilly - C5 - Enthralled

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

My darling daughter, before I was released from hospital, Dr Liz told me that my birth was almost textbook perfect. While I had been in pain, I had managed to have a drug free birth, like I'd wanted. Because of my small stature, there had been fears of tearing or other complications, but nothing had happened.

Looking into your face, I had fallen in love. I knew my life would never be the same, but I didn't mind. I felt like you had become my sun, and I would orbit around you, constantly aligning myself to your presence.

My baby. My _daughter._ The most beautiful creature that I had ever seen. Your were perfect, and mine. Not knowing what sex you were, I hadn't given a lot of thought to your name. Yet, when I looked into your tiny, huge eyes, I thought of the only name for you, the name that seemed perfect to me.

"Welcome to the world, little Isadora. You were a surprise, but you are loved very very much." I lightly ran my finger down your check, marveling at the softness of the skin. Early in your life, I did that a lot. I would touch your cheek, or the top of your head, and marvel at the softness. At your perfection. Running my finger carefully under yours, you grabbed, holding on tightly. I had never realised just how strong babies were. "Your daddy might not be part of your life, but I am sure he would love you too." I felt tears run down my cheeks as I thought of Jasper. Seeing my discomfort, Vere had sat next to me, rubbing silent, soothing circles into my back. Ad wordlessly handed me a tissue, sitting down on my other side. Looking up at them, I smiled though my tears.

"You are one lucky girly, little Isadora. Your aunt Vere and uncle Ad love you very much too," Vere whispered. "If your mom ever forgets that, you make sure to remind her."

"Thank you, both of you," I replied. " I don't know what I would have done without you."

"We love you, you silly girl!" Ad exclaimed, laughing. "How could we not stand by you? Especially now you're such a hot mum."

Isadora, you fed easily, yet I couldn't put you down. The nurses were enthralled, and my friends were in love with you. I was in love with you. You are my perfect angel.

Two days later, we were discharged. Dr Liz had arranged her schedule so that she drove us home. When we arrived on campus, she pulled me close, hugging me in a way that I didn't recognise anymore. I had become so used to the baby belly that if felt odd to be hugging someone without it in the way.

"You did really well, I'm so proud of you. I was a little worried, you seemed so disconnected when I first met you, but you have blossomed. You already make a wonderful mother." I blushed at her compliment, unsure how to respond.

Reaching into the backseat, I lifted you out of the car. Free of the necessity of the car seat, I wanted you as close to me as possible. Carefully, I snuck you into my hug-a-bub. I had practiced putting it on, putting a baby in it, while I was pregnant, using a bag of flour as my baby. At the hospital, free of my belly, I had practiced with you rather than the flour. The nurses watched carefully each time. I was sure that I had mastered the technique, and found that having you too far from me made me anxious. You looked at me as I settled you in, your eyelids heavy with sleep.

My friends gathered up the rest of the bags, knowing I held the most precious item that had been taken home from the hospital. Hugging Dr Liz goodbye, she reminded me to come and see her for a follow up appointment in a week. We walked slowly up the stairs, to my room.

I was glad we had taken the back stairs, the ones that were never used, because they didn't lead anywhere useful. I knew that the people on my floor accepted my pregnancy, but with you in my arms, a real baby not the idea of a baby, I was apprehensive of their response. Reaching my room, Ad unlocked the door and motioned me in. I looked around, noting that the single bed he and Vere had been using had been removed, and in its place, they had set up your bassinet, and a desk had been moved back in with your change table placed on it. Walking over to my bed, I sat down, noticing that the sheets had been changed in my absence.

Looking at you, asleep on my breast, I felt happy and complete. You were perfect, and it was all I could do not to stare at you all the time. Ad and Vere quietly left the room, leaving me to my musings. Over the course of your childhood, I spent a lot of time watching you sleep. You looked like a beautiful little angel, and even without being aware of it, you had me under your control. There was almost nothing I wouldn't do for you, and I could deny you nothing within my means.

I slowly fell back into my routine, but it was drastically different to the routine before your birth. I found that in those first few weeks, I would sleep for shorter periods of time, but more overall as I adjusted my life to fit yours. I continued to plan my trip, to cook for Ad and Vere, but you were the centre of my consciousness.

Aware of just how inactive I had been during my pregnancy, I began to take short walks. On these, I would be accompanied by Vere and Ad, and sometimes some of the other girls from the floor would come with us. It was nice to settle back into these easy friendships.

I slowly learnt how to do the most basic of tasks with you around. I wore you in the hug-a-bub most of the time, and it meant that I could cook, read, and do almost every normal activity without having to put you down. I even discovered that I was able to go to the toilet with you in it, which removed a major hurdle for me.

The hardest task I found though, was showering. I was at a loss as to what to do. I couldn't take you into the shower with me, and I couldn't leave you unattended in my room. I had Vere watch you a few times while I showered, but knew that for my trip I would have to come up with a better solution.

The solution to my problem came at the most unlikely time. Ten days after you were born, Vere and and I made the trip down to London with you to get you a passport. The trip had been finalised two days before we left, and for me it was like a test run to see how I would cope traveling around Europe with you. As I packed our bags, I packed the collapsable baby bath I had been given at the baby shower. As I stared at it, contemplating the best way to pack it, I realised that this was the solution to my problems. If I padded the base with a towel, I would be able to lay you in the bottom of the bath while I showered, and could see you. It would also mean that I would be able to leave you in the changing room, dry half of the shower stall while I showered. The solution seemed so perfectly simple, and I was eager to try it out. Deciding that I had time for a quick shower, I headed off to the bathrooms, with you and the baby bath and an extra towel in tow. Setting you up in the bath, I positioned you out of the spray, with you facing towards me.

The solution was perfect, and I felt the weight lift off my shoulders as another obstacle was smoothed from my path.

When Vere, Ad and I arrived in London, we checked into the hotel before wandering out to be tourists. Despite being British, Ad had only been to London once before, and was as excited as Vere and I to explore the famous city. Our first stop was the London Eye, and the spectacular views of the city it offered. With the late arrival of our train, and the slow rotation of the Eye, it was the only attraction we visited that day. That evening, we decided to try to see a musical. We knew that there was a very real possibility that you would start to cry during the performance, but decided that it was worth the risk. Our fears were ungrounded, and you slept peacefully for most of the performance, waking shortly before the interval needing to be fed before settling back to sleep.

The next morning, we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before heading to our appointment with Jill. We had scheduled it for eleven am, hoping to avoid the peak times on the tube. Jill cooed over you as she completed the paperwork, gushing at your beauty and perfection. As the proud parent I was, I soaked up the praise. Ad and Vere looked just as proud as I was, and I smiled, knowing they were as enthralled and enamored by you as I was.

Sorting through the piles of paperwork that I needed for your passport, Jill smiled. I had needed to complete twice as many forms for you, because not only was I getting the passport as a rush job, I also did not have people who had known me for over two years in the country, and I was simultaneously applying for Australian citizenship for you. Dr Liz, as a person of respected position in the community, had verified many of my documents.

"It all seems to be here, and in order, Lilly," Jill said. "I will have this express posted back to you as soon as it's done."

Relieved that I would soon be able to travel without overstaying my visa requirements, Ad, Vere and I headed out to sightsee, catching a tour bus to show us the beautiful city. That night we saw another musical, and once again you were perfectly behaved. Honestly, you were an easy baby, well behaved, well adjusted, who didn't cry too much, and was content almost all the time.

You were perfect, and I was enthralled your entire childhood.

When we returned to university the next day, I suddenly felt confident that I would be able to travel with you, confident that I would be capable of looking after you by myself.

Before your passport arrived, and before we started traveling, the weather was amazingly nice. Surprisingly so. I had grown resigned to the constant rain in England, and the constant grey skies. But, we were blessed with a full week of sunshine when we got back to university.

It made me a little homesick, and I craved the feel of sun on my skin.

So, I spent most of that week sitting on my balcony. We lived on the top floor of our residential block, and there was a balcony running around the building on our floor. Most of the rooms had access through the sliding doors in the corridors, but for some unknown reason, the access to this part of the balcony was through a door in one of the empty bedrooms. Because of the layout of the kitchens and bathrooms on this floor, the door was the only access to this part of the balcony. Every other door allowed you to walk almost entirely around the building. The limited access gave me a sense of security I would never have had otherwise.

Over the week of sun, I spent so much time on the balcony with you. Vere and Ad would often join me, and we would sit silently, watching you sleep, or talk quietly.

When your passport arrived twelve days after we returned from London, I rejoiced, glad to know that I would be able to travel back to Paris with Vere before we started our respective trips.

I went to see Dr Liz one final time, and was saddened to think that she would not be able to see you grow. She had become such a steady rock for me. We had discussed your immunisation schedule, and agreed that I should follow the Australian course of immunisation. I was going to be traveling when you were due to have both your two month and four month immunisations, and Dr Liz had kindly arranged for me to have them done by friends of hers that worked in Krakow and Ottawa. She checked you over, and I felt a surge of love and pride towards you. As I turned to leave, hugging Dr Liz goodbye, she handed me a small card. It looked like a business card, but as I flipped it over, I saw that she had written her personal contact details on the back

"Please keep in touch, Lilly. I have grown very fond of you over the last few months, and Isadora is delightful. I would love to see her grow, and to hear what you are up to. I don't think that this is going to dim your future at all. You are destined for a wonderful life, I'm sure of if."

Tearing up, I nodded, promising that I would add her to my Isadora update list.

The next day, we were having a final farewell party. While most of the people on the floor had already finished their exams, many had stayed until the end of the term. The day was unusually sunny, a perfect day for a barbeque on the lawns. As we settled down, I looked around. I had invited many of my friends from my classes. Isadora, you slept obliviously in the bassinet as my friends and floor mates fussed over you, exclaiming at your perfection and beauty. The party lasted well into the night, with the drinks conversation and laughter flowing freely. Around midnight, it started to drizzle, and we moved upstairs, many congregating in the communal kitchens to continue the celebrations. I headed to bed, feeling more content than I had for a long time.

The next three days were a blur of activity as I continued to pack my stuff up. Knowing that you would be rapidly growing as I travelled, I packed up three care package boxes, entrusting them into Ad's care. I was planning to travel through Europe for three months before heading to Canada for another month. Ad and I had prearrange locations that he would send me these care packages, the only definite stops on my itinerary. While I had planned where I wanted to go, much of my accommodation was unbooked, allowing me to make last minute changes as we travelled. The rest of my stuff, I shipped back to Australia.

The day that Vere and I flew to Paris, we moved the furniture back into the correct places, donated bedding to the charity shop and generally made sure that our rooms were in a better condition than when we found them. We both wanted our full bond back, and planned to do everything we could to ensure its swift return. Entrusting Ad with the return of the borrowed baby gear, we set off for the train station, heading to the airport to begin our adventures.

Author's Note: I know that I seem inconsistent with my spelling of mum and mom. But, this reflects the different backgrounds of my characters. Ad and Lilly are English and Australian, so will use mum, while my north American characters will use mom. Partly because these are the spellings used in each of their native accents, and partly because whenever I speak to north Americans, they do actually pronounce a 'o' where I pronounce a 'u.'

Australian citizenship and passports for children born overseas actually take several months to process. They are issued by different agencies, so they cannot be done simultaneously. Both parents of the birth certificate must give consent when a child's passport is issued (except in exceptional circumstances). But, for this story to work, I needed them to both be done in less than a month, and wanted Jasper on the birth certificate, so I waved my 'it's a story' wand, to make it work.


	7. Book One Lilly - C6 - Travelling

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

My darling girl, I cannot pretend that traveling around with you was easy. But at the same time, it wasn't hard. You were an easy baby, so I was able to travel relatively easily with you. You didn't overly like flying, but that is unsurprising. Flights were the main reason that I carried a bottle and some premixed formula, to allow you something to help equalise the pressure.

Over the course of my travels, I made several important decisions. The first was that I needed to finish my double degree, and get honours in at least one of them. The second was that I needed to get a job when I got home. The third was that I wanted to get my PhD. And the final decision was that I wanted to get my PhD in either America or Canada. This would most likely mean a permanent move to North America, so I would need to set up a college fund for your education.

We travelled slowly, staying at least three nights in any one place we visited. We took a month to get from Paris to Krakow, to meet up with Dr Liz's friend so you could get your two month immunisations. Along the way we had visited Mont St Michel, Munich, Berlin, Warsaw, Gdansk and the seaside town to Łeba. I was entranced, captivated with so many of the places we visited. The majesty of Mont St Michel took my breath away while the stark beauty of the slowly moving sand dunes of the Baltic Sea at Łeba were unlike anything I had ever seen. As we moved, I developed a routine for each new place. If we had accommodation booked, we would go directly there from the train station, otherwise we would find the visitors information centre, and get them to book us accommodation. We stayed in single rooms in youth hostels, in budget hotels, in pensions, which were kind of like European B&Bs, in spare rooms old cute old ladies whose children had long since moved on, away from home, and we camped. After finding my accommodation, I would set about finding the nearest supermarket, or bakery, or fruit shop. And then, we would set of for our adventures in the new place.

Whenever we stayed with the little old ladies, they were amazed by you, and would spend hours in the evenings fussing over you in foreign languages, in French and Polish, and as we moved further up the coastline, in Lithuanian, Latvian, Estonian, Russian. You were so enthralling that they would insist that I let them care for you, shooing me off to shower, to nap, to read while they sat with you. There seemed to be a Europe-wide decision that I was too skinny, that I need to be fattened up, and they all fed me magnificently, and unexpectedly. Many of these old ladies loved you so much they refused to let me pay for the accommodation or the food. To thank them for their hospitality, I bought small gifts for them. I have no idea if this offended them or not, but I felt guilty about staying in their houses without paying them in some way.

In every town, where possible, I would join a walking tour, and see the sights of the city that way. I had discovered that thanks to my pregnancy, I was very out of shape, and was exhausted by the end every tour I took before Warsaw. In Warsaw, I began to notice that I was finally able to walk for most of the day without major problems.

Leaving Krakow, we travelled further north in Europe, into the Baltic States. In Western Europe, we had travelled by brand new, fast trains. As we moved into Poland, the trains became older and slower, reflecting the division that still existed between the countries on each side of the iron curtain. Crossing from Poland to Lithuania, the trains became busses, many older than I was. The after effects of the communist regime was still clearly visible in the Baltic states, and I was amazed to see the division between affluence and poverty that existed within many of these countries, especially outside of the big cities.

On the long train and bus journeys we took, you would sleep most of the way, but rarely slept for the entire voyage. While you slept, I would read or play sudoku to keep myself occupied. When you woke up, I had to keep you occupied. Somewhere between Berlin and Warsaw, I discovered that while you were often cranky and difficult when you woke up, reading aloud to you would help you settle. I assume it was because of hearing my voice, but it became a habit. When you woke on these long trips, I would make sure you were fed and changed, and then read to you. In Western Europe, and to a lesser extent in Poland, I was able to get my hands on English language books relatively easily. As we moved further north, it became harder and harder to find anything other than classic literature in English. As a result, I purchased many of the works of Shakespeare during our time in the Baltic states. You took to these immediately, and I would read them to you at night, in place of more stereotypical children's books. The rhythms and cadences of Elizabethan English, of the iambic pentameter that Shakespeare favoured, seemed to relax you, and you would often fall asleep as I read to you.

In Lithuania, I took you to your first beach, and we discovered how cold the Baltic sea could be. In Latvia, I visited castle ruins, walking the hundreds of steps up and down the valleys, and along the river to see them. In Estonia, we visited the island of Saaremaa, and saw the meteorite craters scattered about the island. We visited so many places that are in my photo albums at home. Each of them was magical, and even more so because I got to spend them with you.

I know that I have probably made it sound like traveling with you was easy, simple. I will not lie to you and tell you that it was. Because, truthfully, it was really hard. I had to carry all of my stuff, all of your stuff, a tent and sleeping bag, a laptop, changing bag for you, and most importantly you. In many of the trains I caught, a nice gentleman would take pity on me and lift my bags on and off the luggage racks above our heads. While I had packed as lightly as possible, my hiking pack still weighted over twenty kilos, and with the addition of you, I was unable to lift it higher than onto my shoulders. When we started traveling on busses, the drivers would load my bags into the bus for me, although many seemed confused by a clearly foreign tourist with such a young baby, traveling alone.

Twice, Ad sent us care packages, in prearranged destinations. We received the first of these in Krakow, then one in Riga. By both cities, you were growing our of your existing clothing, and I donated it to charity shops. I had packed the care packages before leaving university, and had filled them with practical things - new clothes for you, extra jumpers for me, baby wipes and other products I knew I would be running out of. To my surprise, when I unpacked these boxes, Ad had added things, sending me little gifts for myself, and for you. He packed small stuffed animals, chocolates, a few new tops for me. Things that I loved him for. His kindness was unwavering, and I felt blessed to have met him. And I was amazed that he had managed to find things that would fit in my pack, that I did not have to struggle to carry with me.

In return, I sent boxes to Ad, souvenirs I had picked up in our travels, little things that helped in lightening my load. He was kindly looking after much of my stuff, allowing me a place to use as a base before I returned to Australia.

The third month, I returned to England and spent a week with Ad and his boyfriend. You were fussed over, spoilt during that time. I repacked my bags, anticipating the colder weather I was traveling to in Canada. I also packed all of the rest of my stuff up, boxing it to be posted back to Australia.

Knowing that I had a month until I was due home, and still unsure of my parents response to you, I rang my best friend at home, Fern. She had met my parents twice, and knew that my relationship with them was uneasy. They had tried to impose their religious beliefs on me, and had failed. I simply did not believe what they did. I had found their insistence that I follow their doctrine stifling, and had spent many of my high school and college years at her house. Our age difference had never been an issue, despite the fact she was almost three years older than me. Those three years now seem so insignificant to me, but when I started high school, and I was nine and she was twelve, they had seemed huge.

I had yet to tell my parents when I was returning to Australia. I had simply told them some time in October or November, when my money ran out or I got tired. I had talked to Fern on and off during my pregnancy and travels, but hadn't told her about you. I still don't know why, but I guess it was because I was scared of her reaction, far more scared than I was of my parents reactions. Since turning eighteen, I knew that I was legally an adult, and able to sever all connections with my parents. There was enough bad blood, and little love between us, so severing the ties would not cause me a great deal of distress. Fern was different. She was my friend, and I loved her. She was the family I had chosen. It would hurt to have my connection with her severed, and I dreaded her reacting badly.

I needed to tell her.

So, I made one of the scariest phone calls of my life. Figuring out the time difference, I rang Fern, aiming for 8pm on a Tuesday night, knowing that she was usually home at that time.

"Fern, hi!" I tried to sound excited to be talking to her, but I think I failed. No, I know I failed.

"Lilly, honey, what's wrong?" Fern enquired. My fear must have been more in my voice than I expected.

"Umm… I have something to tell you. Something I should have told you ten months ago, when I first found out. But I didn't know how, so please don't hate me… Fern, I have a four month old daughter. Do you have a computer nearby? I have just sent you a couple of pictures. Her name is Isadora, and she is perfect. My entire world." I was talking faster and faster, a note of hysteria creeping into my voice.

"Lilly, honey, slow down. You have a four month old? Why ever didn't you tell me? Let me open the pictures…. Oh honey, she is perfect!"

I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself. Fern came from a much more liberal background than mine, and I had known that she wouldn't judge me. I also knew that she loved all children, and couldn't wait to have several of her own. A large brood if possible.

Steeling myself, I replied. "Yes, a four month old. And I don't know why I didn't tell you. I haven't told anyone at home. You are the first. My parents don't know, and that is part of the reason that I am ringing you.

"They also don't know when I am coming home. They think I just haven't decided yet. My ticket is actually booked. I will be arriving into Sydney on October nineteen. I was wondering if you could pick me up? And if I could stay with you guys for a little bit? I know that it is a huge thing to ask, but I don't want to take Isa home, at least not immediately. I want to talk to my parents before I have to introduce her to them. I don't want her exposed to their crazy. And I can just see my parents going off their tree at me… Please?" My tone was pleading by the time I had finished talking, and I knew I was on the verge of tears. My voice had started to waver, and I was sure that Fern knew it too.

"Lilly, honey, don't cry. Of course you can stay with us. Do you have a car seat? A cot? A bath? Actually, what do you have?"

Smiling, I realised that my fears in telling Fern had been unfounded. "Ummm…. No, I don't have a car seat. I was going to order one and have it shipped to your house, if that is okay? I don't even know if I will have a car when I get home… I don't have a cot for her, but she has been sleeping either with me or in a portable bassinet. I have a collapsible bath. I don't have a pram, but she spends most of her time in my hug-a-bub or in a sling so I don't need one. Please, don't rush out and buy anything, I would feel just too guilty staying at your house if you did. We have enough stuff to be comfortable. My university friends were amazing, and they threw me a baby shower, and gave me most of the stuff I need… the one thing I would ask is that you baby proof your house a bit? You don't need to go overboard yet, she isn't crawling… but I think she will be soon. So, if you could put covers in electrical sockets, child locks on doors and draws with poisons or knives… and a gate on your stairs? That would be amazing. I would be sooo much in your debt. Oh, and can I send you some stuff? I need to send most of the baby stuff home, and I don't want my parents unpacking the boxes."

"Sure, honey. Do need anything for yourself? Clothes, anything?"

"No, just a bed to sleep in. With sheets and blankets, of course." I smiled over the phone at my friend. Perhaps my homecoming wouldn't be as bad as I had expected.

We chatted for another half hour, catching up and reminiscing. Hanging up, I felt lighter, freer than I had in months. I hadn't realised how much I had been fearing going home.

I was in England for a bit over a week before flying to Canada, and in that time I repacked, sent stuff home to Fern, and travelled up north to go through another round of immunisations with Dr Liz. Seeing you, Isadora, Dr Liz cooed, exclaiming on how big you had gotten, how beautiful you were. She asked how my travels had been, and insisted on taking me out to dinner to catch up. I blushed at her kindness, unable to refuse this woman who had become a mother to me. I was sad to know that soon I would be leaving the country, and had no idea if I would ever return. I told Dr Liz about my conversation with Fern, and Liz consoled me, knowing the stress and fear telling my parents had me under. As we parted, Liz gave me her contact details, telling me if I was ever this way, to look her up.

"Gorgeous girl, you and Isadora always have a bed at my house if you need it."

I hugged her farewell, returning the offer. "And, if you ever end up down my way, you have a bed wherever I am."

We parted, and I made my way back to Ad's, sad that I was about to leave Dr Liz's love and support, but excited to be seeing Vere so soon.

The flight to Canada was better than I had expected, and the flight attendants clucked over you, making sure I was comfortable and had everything I could possibly need. They helped me with my bags, and made sure I had assistance at the baggage carousel. The additional help was nothing to do with me. You had charmed and enthralled everyone around you.

As I passed through security and immigration, I was blown away to see Vere waiting for me, holding a huge sign welcoming us both to the country. Standing with her were two people I assumed were her parents, and a young man who I recognised from photos as her boyfriend. They greeted me warmly, taking the luggage trolley from my grip, informing me that they had hired a car seat for you, for the duration of our stay.

I felt loved, amazed by the generosity of these people I had never met. I spent close to three weeks with Vere in Ottawa. Her parents fell in love with you, and offered to look after several nights, giving me a chance to go out with Vere and her boyfriend, to meet some of her friends. I felt apprehensive, anxious each time I left you. In your short life, the only time we had been separated was short periods of time when you were less than a month old, and I showered. We had spent every moment after than together. Vere was understanding, having seen my bond with you from the beginning. The first time we went out, you and I were separated for two hours as Vere and I had dinner. The next time, I felt comfortable enough to see a movie, and the final time that Vere's parents minded you, I spent almost six hours away from you, hanging out with Vere's friends.

In the middle of my time in Canada, I had taken a week to visit a couple of universities that were on my list of places to do postgrad study at. University of Toronto, McGill and Cornell. Each had its own charm, strengths and weaknesses. I was glad that I got a chance to visit each of the institutions, able to get a feel before I considered enrolling.

After my trips to the universities, I had a bit over a week left in Ottawa with Vere. I loved the feel of the city, and was saddened that the universities there didn't offer what I was looking for. I would have liked to be able to consider a place where I knew people, had a bit of a support network already formed.

As her family took me to the airport, farewelling me and you, I grew more anxious, knowing I was about to return home, about to return to the same city as my parents. I knew there was no way I could avoid telling them once I got home, and I was worried about what they would think. My fear must have shown, as the flight attendants seemed even more attentive this flight, occasionally taking you for a few minutes, offering me alcohol to calm my nerves. I declined the drinks, and tried to focus on you as I closed the distance between myself and my parents.

Stepping out of the arrivals gate at Sydney airport, I was greeted by Fern, her smile huge, and her arms open offering me a hug.

"I knew you'd be over thinking this. I'm gonna get you home, your room is all set up, and then you take your time telling your parents. You have a room at our place as long as you need it."

Smiling with gratitude, I took her hand, and we walked out of the airport, ready to face the next part of my life. Of our lives.


	8. Book One Lilly - C7 - Homecoming

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

Fern had installed the car seat in her car, and sitting in it was a brand new stuffed animal. Mr Lefant. You still have him. He sits on your bookshelf now. He was the first of many gifts that Fern showered on you over the next few months. On the drive home, you fell asleep clutching him as Fern and I talked quietly.

She told me that she and her boyfriend had moved out of their parent's houses six months earlier, when her grandfather had died. He was the last grandparent she had, the rest having passed away before she was born. Being the only child of only children, each grandparent had left her substantial sums of money as inheritance. The inheritance from the first three grandparents had been invested, and when combined with the inheritance from her grandfather, she had a very large sum of money to play with. She had bought a house about four months earlier, and told me that with her current salary, she would have the mortgage payed off in less than ten years. As it was, her boyfriend Tabb was contributing to the mortgage, and it looked like everything would be paid in less than five years.

"So, honey, don't worry about rent or anything. You can stay with us as long as you need to."

Fern was right when she said that the bedroom was all set up for us. She had contacted Ad and Vere, and had discussed what I did and didn't have. Over the course of their conversations, my three best friends slowly, quietly formed a friendship, something I would not find out about for many years. Ad had told Fern that everything I had was collapsible, light, designed for travel not constant use.

So, Fern had decked out a large, ensuite bedroom in her house for us. Not only had she provided me with a queen sized bed, she had invested in brand new furniture for you - a change table, bath, cot, high chair and a beautiful mobile. The room was covered with toys, as well as having a wall that was covered in bookshelves. Several of the shelves had already been filled, with a collection of children's books and the fantasy fiction I preferred.

I was blown away by her generosity, and a little humbled. "Fern, you didn't need to do all this. I mean, I may only be here for a week. You must have spent so much money. It's beautiful but, it's too much."

Laughing, Fern refused to accept my protests.

"Honey, even if you do go back to your parents, you're gonna need time away from them. We both know that your relationship with them is tense at the best of times. I am offering you that place. Please, just accept it."

It took me a week, my darling girl, to gather the courage to visit my parents. I knew that their routine wouldn't have changed much over my absence, and decided that a Thursday night was my best bet for catching them at home.

Darling girl, I didn't take you with me that day. I asked Fern to watch you for the evening, rather than take you with me. I wanted to talk to them first, to explain my situation. I rang them about half an hour before I planned to go over there, telling them that I had caught an earlier plane and was on my way home from the airport.

Arriving at the house I had grown up with, I was armed with a photo album of my pregnancy, of your life, of our travels. An album that I wanted to give to them. Not that I got the chance.

My mother was confused when I didn't have any bags with me. Sitting her and my father down, I began to tell them the story of you.

"Mum, Dad, I have something to tell you. Something amazing, special, lovely. I want you both to keep an open mind and open hearts about what I am going to tell you."

Taking in the looks of confusion on their faces, I opened the photo album, turning it so they could see the photos. Passing them the album, I continued. "While I was away, I fell pregnant. I have a beautiful baby girl, Isadora. You have a beautiful grand daughter. She is five months old. I have been back in the country for a week, trying to gather up the courage to tell you about her. I have been so scared of your response, and I really need you to accept her, to accept my actions. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I cannot imagine my life without her."

My mother had been looking, unseeing at the photo album. Closing the book, she passed it back to me. Exchanging a look with my father, she spoke. "Lillian Delphine Haig, we raised you better than that. Losing your virtue, having a child out of wedlock. A baby needs a mother and a father. You are too young to raise this child, ill equipped. Where is the child's father? No, don't answer that, it's clear that he is not around. Otherwise he would be here, asking for our forgiveness and your hand in marriage to give that child a proper life, with a proper family."

She kept referring to you as 'that child.' My mother refused to recognise you as my daughter or her granddaughter. It hurt, but was no different to what I had been expecting. What my father said, however, floored me.

"Lillian, we expect you to give that child a proper household, a proper childhood and family. We will get you the papers, and we expect you to give that child up for adoption. Our church has links with a wonderful agency, your mother and I have counseled many young women in your situation about the benefits of adoption. I will have the papers for you in the morning." Standing up, he picked up his keys. "We will go and pick the child up now, and drop her off at the adoption agency. Where is she?"

"NO!" I yelled, unsure if I was really hearing what I thought I was. "I am not giving my child up for adoption. I love her, and she loves me. I know the problems that adopted children face, and she will be better off with me, as a single parent that adopted out, with two parents that you deem more suitable for her."

Taking a deep breath, I continued. "If you can't accept Isadora as your grandchild, then I disown you, divorce you, sever all my ties with you. I'm an adult, and no longer need your consent for anything. If you can't accept her, and us, then I'm better off without you."

By the time I had finished speaking, my voice had shifted from its outraged yell to carefully modulated tones. I spoke carefully, needing my parents to see that this was not an emotional outburst, it was a carefully considered decision.

My mother was the first to react to my outburst. "Fine. You disown us. You have three days to take all your possessions and leave this house. Your father and I will be away for the weekend, hosting a camp helping disadvantaged children to find God. We expect you to have cleaned out your room by the time we get back on Sunday night. You may not take the car you were driving before you left, that is your fathers. You have made your bed, and now you must lie in it. Leave the keys on the bench." Standing up, she opened the door, indicating that I should leave.

I walked out of the house, in a daze. I had always realised that it was a possibility that they would disown me, but had held hopes that this wouldn't actually happen.

But you know what hurt the most, darling girl? They hadn't even wanted to meet you. You were an accident, to be sure, but you were never a mistake to me. But that is all they saw you as. A mistake that they needed to fix. They never even met you.

I walked aimlessly, not seeing where I was going, slowly planning my next move. I didn't come out of my daze until an hour and a half later, when I arrived back on Fern's doorstep. I blinked, surprised that I had walked the three suburbs between her house and my parents house without even knowing it.

As I walked back into the house, I saw your face, my darling girl, and knew that I had made the right decision. I knew my life was going to be difficult for the next few years, but also knew that there was no way I would trade you for an easier life.

For the first four months we were in Australia, we lived with Fern and Tabb. I felt guilty living there rent free, but Fern insisted that it was fine. She knew that I had to save as much money as I could before I started school again. I had three semesters left until my graduation, and I wanted to finish my education.

Fern and Tabb helped me move, and it was done in two of the allotted days. I felt no sense of loss when I placed my house key on the table, no grief for severing ties with my parents.

Knowing the key was symbolic, I set about severing legal ties with my parents. Before leaving on my exchange year, we had a solicitor draw up a will and power of attorney documents for me. Knowing that my parents had legal custody over you if anything were to happen to me frightened me. So, I had the documents redrawn. I listed three guardians for you, with you being my sole benefactor unless I was to have other children, when my assets would be split. If you were old enough to make the decision, you were to decide who would be your guardian if anything should happen to me. Otherwise, the geographically closest of your guardians would become your legal guardian. I discussed with Vere, Ad and Fern, and gave each of them power of attorney. I had the documents written in a way that ensured only one of them would have to make the decisions, if needed.

I also had the solicitor draw up paperwork that explicitly stated that you were my next of kin, and that my parents had no family rights. They could not visit me in hospital, but listed Fern, Ad and Vere as members of my family, formally adopting them as family. I was sound of mind, and these documents removed any legal rights my parents had in regard to me. Or to you. They could not contest my will, they could not act as your guardian or make decisions for me under power of attorney rules, they could not make medical decisions if ever needed. I may as well have been a stranger, the rights that they had over me. DNA no longer meant anything. I know that they received copies of the papers, Fern hand delivered them herself. They made no attempt to contact me, to get me to try to change my mind.

Having completely severed legal ties with my parents, I realised that I had almost no emotional ties to sever. When they had refused to meet you, had insisted that you be put up for adoption, I think they had been severed without my knowledge.

A fortnight after arriving home, I started applying for jobs. I applied for anything that was available, although many of them were not logistically possible unless I found a childcare place or babysitter for you. And if I did, I would probably spend as much on your care as I would earn in a day.

So, when I got a phone call in the middle of November for a job interview, I couldn't believe my luck. The position was part time, flexible, and had the option of working from home. Trying not to jinx myself, I went to the job interview, and met with the lovely lady who was to become my boss.

The job interview was unlike any I had ever experienced. I spent more time discussing my personal life than I did answering questions about my suitability for the job. I felt like I was out to coffee with an old friend, someone who I hadn't seen in many years, not in an interview. My darling girl, when you enter the job market, you will find that usually, interviews are stressful, frightening experiences. Abaigael, my soon to be boss, was amazing. She listened to my situation, and by the end of our interview, she had offered me a job. She understood my commitment to both you and my studies, and was prepared to be flexible in my workload. She hired me as a research assistant.

Explaining that I would be paid fixed weekly rate, it was up to me to budget my time. At the beginning of each week, I would have to let her know if it was a light, medium or heavy week, and my tasks (and pay) would be adjusted accordingly. She explained that most university students took on a heavy workload during holidays, a medium workload during terms, and a light load during exams or when they had major assignments due. I agreed that this would probably be the same for me. She was happy for me to work from home, but I had to ensure that I had internet access. I was expected to reply to emails within twenty-four hours during the week, or within forty-eight hours during weekends. If I was going to be out of contact for longer periods of time than this, I needed to provide seventy-two hours notice. I would have the access codes to log onto the work systems remotely, but if I worked from home was responsible for paying for my own internet access.

The conditions she proposed seemed more than adequate for me, and I was especially pleased that I would be able to work from home. We agreed that while I got a feel for the work, I would complete a medium load for the first two weeks. If I felt that I was able to complete a heavy workload after that, I would be able to specify that. The only other commitment that the job had was a monthly, compulsory staff meeting. Without a doctor certificate or prior notification, these were non negotiable.

Over the four months before I started university again, I worked for Abaigael, discovering that the 'heavy' workload was light enough that I was able to complete it after I put you to bed in the evenings, before I went to bed myself. Abaigael was more than happy with the standard of work I completed, and advised me that if I was interested, there was a fourth, higher workload. The pay was, of course, higher, but she rarely offered it in initial interviews until she had a feel for the quality of work an individual produced. The standard of work I was producing was suitably high for me to be eligible for the 'very heavy' workload. I tried the 'very heavy' workload, and discovered that it was not much more taxing than the heavy workload, and while I was on holidays, well worth the extra money. I knew that when I returned to university, I would have to drop back to a lower workload, and wanted to have as much saved as I possibly could.

My birthday and Christmas passed as quiet affairs in the first year of your life. I had never really been comfortable being the centre of attention and celebrating my own birthday, preferring to celebrate on other people's behalf's. As for Christmas, my personal religious beliefs surrounding the holiday had always been overshadowed by my parents beliefs, and for the first time in my life I felt that I could spend the day as I saw fit. I continued the present tradition, giving you small gifts, and opening the gifts Ad, Vere, Vere's parents, Dr Liz, Fern and Tabb had gotten you. I received a few small things myself, but my concern for the holiday was primarily you. It stayed that way until you were six, and something switched in your brain. You realised that there was no Santa Claus, and that it was me giving you the gifts each year. After than, you insisted on buying me a gift each year, and each year I have been touched by the thought you put into these gifts.

But, I digress.

Once I started uni again, living with Fern and Tabb without a car became unfeasible. I would have to spend over two hours on a bus each day, and I was unable to spare that amount of time for travel. Instead, we moved into a tiny one bedroom apartment a twenty minute walk from campus. The bus services from the apartment were more frequent, and got us onto campus in about fifteen minutes. When we moved from Fern's, she had insisted that we take the furniture she had bought for you before we arrived in Australia. I already owned a bed, so knew that I only needed to invest in a couch, a table and chairs to get by. Living with you was more important to me than living in decadence or luxury.

The apartment we lived in until your fifth birthday was small, but functional. It came with a fridge and freezer, which was one of its biggest selling points. We shared a bedroom, with me in the double bed and you in the cot, then, when you were about eighteen months old, you upgraded to a single bed. The living area and kitchen were in the other room, and held a couch and dining table and chairs. The only other room was the bathroom, which was small and lacked a bath, but had a space for a washing machine. Over the first month we lived in the apartment, I scoured the paper for washing machines. The first few weeks, they were either too big for the space, or already sold when I rang. On the fourth week I looked, though, I got lucky. The machine was new enough that it was still in warranty, a front loader that was more environmentally friendly than top loaders, small enough for the space, within my price range, and still available. I bought it immediately, and Tabb kindly helped me move it up the steps and into the bathroom, even connecting it up for me.

Storage in the apartment was limited, so I had portable clothes racks and piles of books all over it. I had considered making book shelves, but decided that it was safer to have the books in piles. They were far lighter if you managed to pull them over onto yourself. Which you did frequently.

I thought about buying a television several times while we lived in our little apartment, but I never did. I found that I didn't miss the inane programming, preferring to loose myself in the world of books. If I did want to watch something, I would hire a DVD or find it on the internet, watching on my laptop.

My darling girl, we lived in a bubble over the next few years, but it was a happy bubble that we were both content with.


	9. Book One Lilly - C8 - Study

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. _

My darling girl, over the next eighteen months I worked harder than I think I ever have. I think that I worked harder than during my PhD, even. But, during my PhD, I did not have a child who was beginning to walk, beginning to speak, needing toilet training. By the time I started my PhD, you were enrolled in school, starting your own education.

For the first semester of classes, I had fifteen contact hours per week, in the second semester I had nine contact hours, and in the third semester I had just six contact hours. The university childcare centre put you on their waiting list, but I only wanted to enroll you for the hours I was in class. By the time I started classes, I had a small amount of savings behind me, and was working regular hours for Abaigael. I decided that the best course of action was to hire a uni student to watch you while I was in class. For the first semester, I found two girls, and their combined wages consumed a fair chunk of my earnings. For the second and third semesters, I only needed one of the girls, and my wages greatly outweighed what I was paying her.

In my second semester back at uni, the June after we arrived back in Australia, I started my honours year. Despite the increased load my honours created, I found that I was still able to maintain a heavy workload for Abaigael. She continued to be pleased with my work, and I began to be able to save. I had two savings accounts. One was your college fund, and the other was mine. For the eighteen months that I completed my undergraduate study, we lived very frugally. I happily ate vegetarian most nights, and had carefully checked with your doctor that I was giving you all the required nutrients if I did so. We ate either chicken or fish once a week, but never red meat. I had still not managed to get over my aversion to the blood in red meat, and hadn't cooked any since the ill fated roast that I had started and Ad finished.

I found a local group of young mothers who walked several days a week. Each walk was a big gossip session, and I slowly learnt each woman's story, and them mine. At the end of each walk, we would have a picnic, outside if it was nice weather, or at one of their houses if it was not. I never offered our apartment, knowing it was too small for the twelve to eighteen people (including babies) that went on each walk. The mothers were amazed to see you in the hug-a-bub and, as you got older, the sling. I never bought a pram, preferring to have to on my body if I walked with you. Several vowed to try them out with their next children, and I smiled. I explained how invaluable the hug-a-bub had been as I travelled around Europe, and they were all converts. Many of us have kept in touch over the years, and I smile each time one of them sends me a photo of their new children in slings or hug-a-bubs.

My studies progressed easily, and once I finished my undergraduate coursework, I began my combined honours program in Psychology and Gender Studies. My honours findings were based on such small samples that the results are easily questionable, but I looked at the bonding practices between mothers who use traditional (or modern adaptations of traditional) baby carrying devices such as slings, and modern devices such as prams. I found that babies carried close to the mothers bodies developed secure attachments more often than babies carried in prams. Linking this with my gender studies major, I discussed the cultural implications of the technologies of motherhood, like prams, arguing that like many other 'time saving' devices of the modern world, they failed to ease the load of women, who remained the primary custodians of childrearing.

I could tell you more about my studies during that time, but honestly, it isn't that interesting. I can be summed up in a single sentence. I attended classes, I did my homework, and I graduated. I knew that I needed my education, that I was severely limiting my options if I dropped out of university. But you were my main focus, the main concern during that time.

Your second birthday was the day after I graduated with my BSc (Psych) (Hons) / BA (Hons), earning first class honours for both degrees. We celebrated both milestones with Fern and Tabb. Two years earlier, it would have been my parents sitting in the auditorium, golf clapping as I received my degrees. Now, it was two of my best friends who cheered for me as I walked across the small stage. With the completion of my undergraduate studies, I was one step closer to achieving the goals I had set up for myself the day I disowned my parents.

With no studies to worry about, I returned to a 'very heavy' workload for Abaigael. I continued to walk with the mothers group, and you would play with the other kids at the ends of our walks. Feeling more slothish now I didn't walk to and from university with any regularity, I thought I would get back into dancing and swimming.

One of the girls that had been watching you while I attended classes agreed to watch you one night a week, allowing me to go to my dance classes. I hadn't been to one since before I started my exchange year. Three years ago, by that stage. I doubted I would remember much, assuming that I would have to start from scratch. My body surprised me though.

As I danced, my body remembered what I was meant to do, where to step, when to turn and when to stop. My body dipped and dropped, twirled and stepped in ways that my mind was unable to remember. I knew that the next day I would be paying for it, but was finding it exhilarating to be back. To remember anything at all. The class structure had changed since my last lesson, and I was happy to watch the final part of the lesson, the intermediate advanced class. The teacher, remembering me from before my exchange, and having watched me for the lesson and freestyle sessions, suggested that I try the IA class. Looking around the room, I saw many faces that I remembered, people who had been nice and friendly to me years before.

As I rotated around the class, my dance partners asked what I had been up to, where I had been for the last few years. I explained about my exchange, about finishing my degree, before explaining about you.

As I mentioned you, the lesson came to a stand still, as Zarita, the teacher squealed and rushed to my side.

My darling girl, I must explain that most of the people in the IA class, and the teacher, had known me before you were born. They knew me before I was even an adult, and knew how young I was. My news was shocking to them, and they all wanted to hear my story.

So I gave them the cliff notes version, the short edition of your conception, birth and my life with you.

Zarita hugged me, insisting that I bring you to the next class with me, so everyone could meet you. I was unsure how that would go, but complied to their wishes. The next week when I turned up to class, you were in my arms. I didn't dance much during the lessons that night, but caught up with many of the people I had known years earlier. You captivated them all, smiling and babbling away. As we sat and talked, I learnt that Zarita had recently given birth herself, to a baby girl. I was stunned to learn that she had ever been pregnant. She was as tiny as I remembered her, and it seemed to me like a baby could never have fitted anywhere on her frame.

After that, you would occasionally come with me to the dance classes, when I was unable to get a sitter for you. You would sit quietly, drawing, playing with your stuffed animals, or being fawned over by the women in the class, while I participated in the classes.

Your two year old self was startlingly beautiful, my darling girl. You were like a Botticelli angel or a Michelangelo cherub at two. Your blue eyes were piercing, startling in their colour. They peeked out from some of the longest lashes I had ever seen. Both the eye colour and lashes were a gift from your father. You will never need mascara, my beautiful girl. You have the lashes that every make up artist wants to achieve. You had beed gifted with my skin and hair colouring - the dark hair verging on black inside and almost red in sunlight, the olive skin. But, unlike me, your hair was, is thick, and cascaded down your back in the gentle waves I remember from your father. I have never been able to cut your hair, cherishing it as a tangible symbol of Jasper. You were beautiful, as you are now.

As well as my dance classes, I began swimming laps again. I tried to get to the pool three times a week, although this didn't always happen. One day a week I had enrolled you in swimming lessons, and I would spend the hour long lesson swimming laps. The other visits, I took advantage of the pool's child minding system. So long as the maximum ratios were not reached, children could be left in the daycare area, on presentation of a valid entry card for the day. The service was blessedly free, and I was extremely grateful for every small help I received. I often felt slightly guilty leaving you there, but knew that it was always for less than an hour. The swimming, combined with the dancing and walking with the other mums, I felt my body slowly begin to settle back into its pre baby state, and I began to feel less slothish.

In fact, I began to feel more alive than I had for most of the last eighteen months of my degree. I knew that I had to work to support you, to further my education, but I felt blissfully free in those first few months after I graduated.

I continued to work for Abaigael, and found that I was thoroughly enjoying the work I did for her.

The year after I finished my degree was a happy one for both of us. You grew, and learned, and we would play. We would go on the mothers walks, and have picnics with the other mothers and their children. In the evenings, I would complete my work for Abaigael. I would go to my dance classes, and swim. At least once a fortnight, Fern world come round, and she and I would catch up. You were enamored with her, amazed with her bright blue hair and rainbow clothes.

We were happy, my darling, and I loved all my time with you.

Note: the honours findings are made up. While I assume that babies carried close to the mother in slings or similar devices would develop more secure attachments than babies carried primarily in prams, this is something that I came up with to link the two degrees, BA (Gender Sexuality and Culture Studies) and BSc (Psychology). I have neither studied nor read anything about this precise topic.

In Australia, it is common to take two undergraduate degrees simultaneously. The end result is two degrees, which can have either no honours, honours in one of the subjects, or honours in both of the subjects.


	10. Book One Lilly - C9 - Preparations

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

The next two years passed fairly uneventfully, my darling girl. You and I found a routine, and we comfortably followed it. You continued to grow into the most beautiful child I could imagine, and I was happy, finally coming to terms with my divorce from my parents years earlier.

I enrolled you in a two year preschool program when you were three, and suddenly found myself with four hours a day free, Monday to Friday. Unsure what to do with myself, I increased my workload with Abaigael, effectively working a double 'heavy load.' The work continued to interest me, and I watched our college funds grow each week. I was also able to treat you more often, although I was careful not to spoil you. With the extra work, I found that we could live a little less frugally, a little more comfortably. We continued to live in the same small apartment, sharing a bedroom, and continued to walk or catch buses everywhere. Living as close as we did to your preschool, to my university, and working at home, I found I rarely needed a car for any reason. On the odd occasions that I did need a car, Fern was happy to lend me one.

As I had done every night of your life, I continued to tell you your fairee tale before you went to bed. Often, you would sleepily say the words with me. We had both memorised the words of the story, were both calmed by its familiar cadences and information. I knew that it would not be long until you started asking me for more information about your father, but for the time being you were content with the fairee tale.

You loved preschool. You fit in well with your peers, making friends more easily than I ever had. The teachers assured me that you were a joy in the classroom, easy to teach and eager to learn and participate. I was happy that you fitted in so well, that you were becoming such a good student. Even though my little student was only three or four years old.

Each day, we would walk the two kilometres to your preschool. You would walk proudly in front of me, wearing the little backpack that contained your recess, lunch and a jumper. Proud to be like the big kids from the mothers walking group, the kids who had already started primary school. You couldn't wait to get to preschool in the mornings, and I had to drag you away each afternoon.

In your second year of preschool, I started applying for graduate schools in North America. I was concerned about up rooting you from your home, but knew that the education I would received in these universities I was applying to was far better than the education I would receive in Australia. I was continuing my study of gender sexuality and culture, and looking at writing my PhD thesis of something about religion and teen pregnancy. My ideas were not fully formed, and I didn't expect them to become fully formulated until after I was accepted into an institution, after I began to discuss my topic with my supervisor.

Looking at the research focus of the universities that interested me, I immediately ruled out McGill. While it was very well respected, the gender studies focus went in a different direction to my interests. Toronto had many positive aspects, but I was not sure that I wanted to live in such a large city. Cornell, in Ithaca, New York, offered everything I wanted. It was in a small enough city that I knew I could live there comfortably, had a well respected gender studies department that meshed with my own interests, and had a decent school system.

The final consideration became the deciding factor. I wanted you to get the best education possible, and without good schools I knew that this wasn't possible.

I began contacting members of the faculty, assessing each for their compatibility and knowledge about my proposed project area, and their availability as a supervisor. Finally finding someone who I thought I would be able to work with, I applied. The application process was long, especially as I was requesting an unusual enrollment.

Coming from Australia, I knew that under my existing degree and educational system, I was able to go directly from my undergraduate degree into a three year PhD program. However, in the States, the normal pathway was an undergraduate degree, then a two years masters program before the three year PhD program. I really didn't want to waste the time on a masters program when I knew that I was already qualified to go directly into a PhD program. So, I had appealed to the university to grant me special enrollment, directly into the PhD program.

Three weeks before you finished preschool, I found out that not only had they granted me permission to enroll in the PhD program directly, they had accepted my enrollment, and were granting me a full scholarship and bursary program. I was due to start in 7 months, half way through your kindergarten year.

Knowing the amount of planning required to uproot both of us, I set about beginning the paperwork. Your passport was due to expire three weeks after we arrived in the US, so I had it renewed. My own passport had expired, so I had to have a new one issued. With both passports valid for at least the length of my PhD, and my university acceptance letters in my hands, I set about filling out the paperwork for our American visas. Why America makes the process so difficult is utterly beyond me, but then again, I'm not an immigration expert or anything.

Darling, you started kindergarten in Australia. Because the academic years in the Southern and Northern hemispheres don't line up, I had a choice to make. When we arrived in Ithaca, I could either enroll you to complete a full year of kindergarten, or to start you in the first grade. I agonised over this decision. Although, darling girl, once you started school there, I was unsure why the decision had been so hard, when it was obviously the right one.

I enrolled you in first grade.

This was the first time that you skipped a grade, although because you had completed a semester of kindergarten, I'm still not sure if it counts as skipping.

When you started kindergarten, you moved from the half days of preschool to full days of real school. You were so proud to be going to real school, to be carrying more in your little backpack than food. You were thrilled when we got your first school books, your first pencil case and pencils. I carefully labelled these, and you would read your name, proudly showing off your school supplies.

When I had decided to enroll you in the first grade, I had contacted the Ithaca school district, and asked them about making sure that you were caught up. They sent me the home schooling resources for kindergarten, and in the months between finishing school in Australia, in late June, and starting in America, in early September, we worked through the entire packet. You were amazingly bright, even then, my gorgeous girl, and you went through the curriculum for an entire year in mere weeks.

Before we left Australia, I had a long discussion with Abaigael. We talked about many things, and she reminded me of the person she had met when I first started working for her. We talked about you, and my plans for your life. How I hoped it would turn out, and what I hoped you would achieve for yourself. I told her of the college fund I had set up for you, and my hopes for your education. In the course of our discussions, we agreed that I would continue to work for her, in taking on either a 'light' or 'medium' workload each week. My wages would be placed directly into your college fund each week, and she would email me my group certificates and the end of each financial year. I left her office, she hugged me, something I had never experienced from her in my years in her employment.

"Good luck, Lilly. I see you achieving great things in life. Just don't neglect your own bliss, it deserves to be cherished," she whispered in my ear.

Touched, I thanked her, and returned to my packing.

I arranged to leave Australia in the middle of August, giving us time to pack up our apartment, and to find a new one in Ithaca. Once more, Fern came to our aid, helping us to clean and to pack, offering her garage as a storage area until we had found a permanent address. We packed and cleaned, giving much of our furniture away, selling the washing machine, and packing our belongings into boxes and bags, ready to be stored with Fern or taken with us. I ended the lease on our apartment two weeks before we left Australia, and we returned to the room at Fern's. She spoilt you rotten that fortnight, invoking her 'right as a godmother to spoil her goddaughter who she won't see for at least three years,' overriding my protests.

Fern drove us up to Sydney airport, crying as she farewelled us. She had become such a big part of my life that I found myself bawling as I hugged her goodbye. You tugged my arm as we passed through security, offering me comfort and love. "We can ring Aunt Fern every day, mum," you reasoned, sure in your sense of logic as only small children can be.

Our flight was uneventful, although I was glad not to be flying with an infant again. As a baby, my darling girl, you flew very well, but I found it highly stressful. Now, you were excited about the prospect of flying, excited about the aircraft, excited about a new place, and hundreds of other things. About half way through the flight, one of the flight attendants took you up to the front of the cabin, into the cockpit. You came back with you very own wings, and a look of awe.

Arriving in New York City, we made our way to our hotel. We were sharing a double bed, because I couldn't justify the exorbitant amount of money a second bed would cost in the city. We stayed for four nights, going to two musicals, to the Statue of Liberty, and Central Park. Basically, being tourists. You were enamored with the city, and I promised that we could visit again.

On our fifth day in America, we caught a bus to Ithaca, and found our couch surfing contact. We had arranged to stay with them for a week while I looked for an apartment. Arriving more than a month before the start of term, I had been assured that it would be easy enough to find something that matched what I was looking for.

The international advisers hadn't been wrong, and four days after arriving in Ithaca, we signed the lease on an apartment. It was bigger than the one in Australia, and for the first time in your life we had separate bedrooms. The apartment was located within walking distance of Cornell, as well as being close to a primary - elementary - school for you.

Over the next few days, we set about getting furniture for the apartment. I had talked to the real estate agents, and expressed my desire for a lease that I could extend. I really didn't fancy moving every year we were in Ithaca. The real estate agent was very helpful, and assured me that the lease could be extended as needed. "In fact," she confided, "the previous tenants were here for four years. The owners live in California, and don't like the weather here, but really like the income the apartment generates, and aren't looking to sell any time soon."

Satisfied that I would not have to transport any white goods too often, I bought a fridge, a freezer and a washing machine. I also requested that the toilet be fitted with a dual flush system. This initially confused the real estate agent, until I explained that they were standard in Australia, and could greatly decrease the water use in a home. I had the white goods delivered, knowing that the price of delivery was far less than the stress I would feel trying to get them up the stairs myself.

We spent the next few days scouring the shops for furniture. I was only after the basics to start with - a dining table and chairs, a couch, and beds for each of us - but knew that we would have to invest in more later, in things like bookshelves, chests of drawers, clothes storage, and so much more. I was due to receive a stipend from the university, and had saved a decent amount of money during the last few years, but I didn't want to spend too much of it, especially so early in our stay. So, in our treks, I was looking for the cheapest decent furniture I could find. We traipsed through Target and Walmart, through smaller stores and specialist shops, and through the various thrift stores in the city. Finally, we visited the antique store and I discovered exactly what I had been looking for. For myself, I found a gorgeous king sized sleigh bed, and for you we found a cute day bed with trundle. Both needed new mattresses, but the antique store said that it could deliver the frames free of charge. As we were leaving, I made one last sweep of the store, when I saw the perfect dining room table. It was large, flat, clearly well worn, would seat ten or twelve people, and came with two long bench style seats. Each end was supported by a single central leg, on a large foot. The only problem with it was a crack in the middle of the wood. But, it was beautiful.

"Could you tell me the providence of that table? It is beautiful, it just shines with life."

The kind lady who had helped us with beds turned to look at us. "That is an early eighteenth century monastery dining table. The legs are new, which greatly reduces the value of the item. And, of course, there is that crack. Last summer, we had an incredibly hot spell, followed by a huge electrical storm. The table just didn't handle the air pressure changes it seems, and so that crack appeared. In its damaged state, the table is almost worthless. I can give you, with the bench seats for, say… four hundred? We can deliver it with the bed frames," she said, clearly trying to sweeten the deal.

I didn't know much about antique furniture, but her price seemed too high for an item she had just described as almost worthless. Testing my luck, I decided to haggle with her.

"I'll give you three hundred for it. Including tax."

"After the deal I just gave you on the beds? Three eighty-five, plus tax."

"I thought it was worthless! Three ten, including tax."

"Three eighty-five, including tax."

"Three twenty."

"Three seventy."

"Three thirty."

"Three sixty."

"Three forty."

"Three fifty."

"Done." I handed my card over to her, and turned back to look at my new table. Despite the crack, I already loved it. "You have my number, your delivery men will call when they are at my place?"

Nodding, she handed my card back. "It truly is a beautiful piece, even with the flaws. I'm glad that it found such a loving home. Not everyone would have fought for it the way you did." Blushing, I thanked her, and we left.

Heading in search of the mattress store that I had found on the internet, we spent most of the morning trying out mattresses. I knew the type of mattress I preferred, and was delighted to find that it was known as the same thing here as all of the mattresses I had had in Australia. Selecting my hotel-motel mattress, I followed you around as you tried mattress after mattress. Eventually you settled on one known as the 'princess mattress.' To this day, darling girl, I don't know if you picked it because you really liked it or because of the name.

I ordered a king sized hotel-motel mattress for myself, and two single princess mattresses for you. Paying and organising delivery, I was delighted to find that they were able to deliver them the next day. Setting a delivery time, I felt glad to have found almost all the basic furniture we needed. We still didn't have a couch, but I figured that we could survive for a little while without one while I continued looking.

Returning to the apartment we started to put away the things we had bought - toasters, crockery and cutlery, sheets, pillows, doonas, towels. Enough to get us through the next few weeks, until we could figure out what else we needed.

True to her word the antique store delivered the beds, tables and benches at 4pm that afternoon. As we watched them bring the furniture up the stairs and into our apartment, I felt a surge of excitement. The furniture was beautiful, and was far better quality than anything I had been able to afford when we moved into the apartment in Australia.

You were so excited about all the new furniture in our apartment that you insisted on staying there that night, even without mattresses. "It'll be like a sleepover, mummy," you argued, and I gave in. We went to the couchsurfing house, and gathered all our stuff, thanking the host profusely before returning to our apartment.

By the time we arrived back that evening, I was exhausted, and ordered pizza, unsure what other take aways in the area delivered. Smiling, I figured it wouldn't be long until their menus started filling our mailbox. You were thrilled with the pizza, a rare treat when we were in Australia. After eating, you quickly fell into a deep sleep, overcome by the exhaustion and excitement of the day.

When the mattresses arrived the next day, and the beds were made, the apartment finally began to feel like home to me. Surveying the apartment, I felt a glow of excitement and happiness.

We were home.

Author's Note:

Isadora's day bed:

Cracked oak dining table: .

Bench seat .

Bench seat 2 misc%20furniture/benches/amish_church_

Sleigh bed images/wooden%20sleigh%


	11. Book One Lilly - C10 - Friends

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

My darling daughter, the weeks we had together before you started school were magical. We were in our own little world, a land of princesses, fairees, frogs, princes, of evil step mothers and loving godmothers. We were happy, and content in the little duo we had formed.

Despite my happiness, I knew that it could not last. We were both growing up, and I knew that soon you would start school and would make friends in your class, and I needed to make some friends that were not five. Easier said than done when you were my whole world.

When school started, you were thrilled to be in the classroom, thrilled to be learning and making friends. And you made friends so much better than I ever did. By the end of your first week, you had four girls you assured me were your best friends "except you mummy," two boys who wanted to be your boyfriend, and three parents who wanted to arrange play dates for you and their child. Some of these friendships worked out for you, others didn't. Those were your battles to fight, not mine. As hard as it was, I had to take a step back, to allow you to be a kid.

In the first few weeks of your term, I picked you up every day after school. We would walk home, chatting about your day, and you would excitedly tell me what you had learnt that day, show me your art, draw me into the little bubble that was your world. In picking you up each day, I learnt which other parents did the same, who was home during the day. I began to make friends with other mothers, knowing that these women could prove to be my greatest allies over the next few years.

I had arranged my schedule at university to allow me to drop you off at school in the morning and pick you up in the afternoons. My advisor was understanding of my situation, and allowed me to structure my days this way. I was able to arrange all of my TA duties to fall in the morning, and had my office hours over lunch. This worked perfectly for me most days, except for on Tuesday afternoons. I had successfully auditioned to play in the school's symphony orchestra, and they rehearsed on Tuesday afternoons. While my technical ability had slipped since my last lessons, it was something I loved to do. I had played in youth orchestras throughout my childhood, and missed not only the music itself, but also the social atmosphere that surrounded the rehearsals. The last time I was in an orchestra was before you were born, playing in the second term concert in my exchange year. You were born before the final concert for the year, and I had sat in the back, ready to bolt if you had woken up during the concert.

Which, of course, my gorgeous daughter, you didn't. You slept peacefully the entire time, your breath warming my breast as I watched the orchestra perform. So, I was excited to return to the world of classical music. The only downside was that rehearsals fell on a Tuesday night, after school.

In my conversations with other mothers, I slowly made friends with a single mother who was not much older than I was. Nessa's daughter, Freja, was in the year above you when you started, and Nessa worked from home, allowing her to collect Freja each afternoon. Hearing my situation, Nessa offered to look after you each Tuesday, and I gratefully accepted, knowing that I couldn't yet afford a babysitter for those afternoons. In exchange, I would take both you and Freja swimming each Saturday morning, giving Nessa some much needed time to herself.

As the weeks progressed, Nessa and I fell into a comfortable routine. Each Tuesday she would provide dinner, and I would eat with her when I picked you up. On Saturdays, she would come round in the afternoon, and we would sit and talk over coffee and cake, and eventually make dinner before she and Freja headed home. She soon became one of my closest friends in Ithaca, a comforting presence in my life.

My darling girl, you and Freja clicked instantly. I had been afraid that you wouldn't get along, that simply throwing you together wasn't enough to create a friendship between the two of you, but I shouldn't have worried. The two of you became best friends, something that made me so happy.

You were so excited when Halloween came, my darling girl. It was the first time you had celebrated it, the first time you had gone trick or treating and pumpkin carved, and you could barely contain yourself.

Nessa invited us round a few days before halloween, to carve pumpkins. I had been worrying about letting you handle big, sharp knives, but Nessa had found small, soft pumpkins that you and Freja could carve with bread knives. She told me that these ones were less than traditional, and would barely last the few hours we would go trick or treating, but that they gave her peace of mind, keeping the sharp knives from Freja. In a few years, she reasoned, she would probably let her carve the full sized pumpkins, but until then it was these soft babies.

You convinced me that I had to come trick or treating with you, and Nessa had to come with us, and that we all had to dress up. You and Freja were obsessed with fairees that year, and insisted that we all dress up as one.

You were so cute in your costume, bouncing down the street in your excitement. Nessa and I followed, a few steps behind you, as Freja excitedly explained about trick or treating, about the huge amounts of candy she had received the last year, bout how cool the costumes were. As you walked, the two of you began to eat the lollies - candies - you had been given, getting progressively more hyper as the sugar in your system increased.

Nessa, seeing my concern, told me not to worry, that in maybe half an hour the two of you would fall into what she referred to as a sugar coma. True to her prediction, forty minutes later both you and Freja were clinging to us, and we carried you home in our arms.

By the time Thanksgiving arrived, you and Freja were having weekly sleepovers, at either our apartment or at Nessa's. You girls would talk for hours, pretending to be asleep whenever I cam to check on you, giggling and whispering when I closed the door.

Growing up in Australia, I had never celebrated Thanksgiving. Nessa was appalled, shocked when she found out and insisted that we go to her house for the holiday. Unsure of what was traditional thanksgiving food, I settled on bringing my Brownies with me, knowing that if they didn't get eaten they could easily be frozen.

I almost didn't recognise Nessa's apartment when we arrived for dinner, my darling girl. Nessa explained that she really liked the holiday, but for the past few years it had only been her and Freja, and not as much of a party. She hadn't told me her story by then, but I was certain that there was a lot of sadness involved, and was delighted that we were helping to make her Thanksgiving more of a holiday.

She introduced us to some of her Thanksgiving traditions, things that have stuck with us. We drew Turkey hands, decorating them, writing what we were thankful for that year, signing them, and pinning them to her wall. She had hundreds there, and said that she kept them, putting the previous year's hands up each year, to remind herself that there was always something to be thankful for.

The dinner was a feast, more food than I thought the four of us could eat. She and I shared a few bottles of wine, and she wouldn't let us leave after dinner, insisting that we stay the night. I was feeling quite tipsy by that stage, so readily complied. Her apartment was larger than ours, but not by much. She and I shared her bed, while you and Freja once more had a sleepover.

The next morning, we had leftover turkey for breakfast, and she sent us home with a huge doggy bag - roast vegetables, turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, yams, and green bean casserole. To this day, I don't understand green bean casserole, but every year she gives me some in the leftovers. I haven't ever had the heart to tell her I don't like it.

Winter settled, and it became too cold to walk to school in the mornings. We started catching the bus, and we would marvel at the snow each morning on the way to the bus stop. I had never had a white Christmas, and was looking forward to it. Despite this, the snow got old really fast. I have always been a summer person, and much as many many people tried to talk up the snow, it never grew on me. It is cold, sticky, and when it melts, wet. Not a combination I am thrilled with. The cold weather and snow meant a whole new wardrobe. For the first time ever, I couldn't wear skirts in winter, needing the extra warmth that thick pants offered. I would often feel like a Michelin man in the layers needed to protect against frostbite and windchill, and was counting down the days to summer.

Christmas came, and went. I had found out about a week before hand that Nessa didn't go anywhere for the holiday, and it was usually just her and Freja. Since Thanksgiving, she had slowly been telling me more about her past, but I still didn't have the whole story. Hearing the pain in her voice whenever she gave me any information, I didn't push the issue. Instead, I suggested that they did Christmas with us. The way we had my entire childhood, with a large, Polish dinner on Christmas eve, presents on Christmas day and sleeping off the huge amounts of food consumed on Christmas day afternoon. Christmas Eve dinner with my parents was a vigil, waiting for midnight mass, but I loved the ritual of the gathering for a meal, even if I hated the religious element.

As with Thanksgiving, Nessa and I shared several bottles of wine over dinner on Christmas Eve, and there was no way I was going to let her go home like that. Knowing this would more than likely be the case, she came armed with presents for Freja, and on Christmas morning we sat around, chatting, opening gifts, and enjoying not spending the days alone in our apartments. I know that we had you, and Freja, but it seemed more like a holiday with four people, rather than just two.

A week before school had broken up for Christmas, I had been called into a meeting with your teacher, the second grade teacher and the principal. At first I had been nervous, hoping that you weren't being bullied, or causing problems in the class, or were behind because of your skipped semester.

My fears, however, were ungrounded. Rather than being behind, you seemed to be ahead of many of your classmates. Your teacher spent the first ten minutes of our meeting talking about your achievements, your intelligence, and the speed you finished your work. The she started to move on to your boredom.

"She finishes all her work in maybe a third of the time of the other students in the class. At first I simply got her to read quietly, choosing books from the shelf in the classroom, but she has read them all. The last few weeks, I have sent her to the library, and she comes back with books well above her developmental age. She is probably reading at a fourth grade level, without trouble. And her work is almost perfect. I asked her what she thought of a maths task we did the other day, something that she got perfect marks for, I might add, and she told me it was boring. And easy.

"Please don't misunderstand me. Isadora is a pleasure to teach, and she gets along well with the other children. She doesn't cause trouble, but I'm not sure that my classroom is the correct place for her.

"I read in her transcripts that she skipped part of kindergarten, and that you helped her through the curriculum when you moved here from Australia?" Seeing my nod, she continued. "Lilly, we must stress that as her mother and guardian, the decision is entirely yours, but we strongly recommend that she be moved to the second grade after the Christmas break. We understand that this will mean she is behind in the curriculum, but we all feel that she is well equipped to catch up within the first few weeks of the term."

The second grade teacher spoke up then. "She often plays at lunch with one of the girls from my class, Freja. I understand that they are friends? With a friend already in the class, I think she will transition socially very well. The kids are still young enough that they won't really realise why it is that she is now in their class, so she shouldn't suffer too much from bullying. I will keep a close eye on her though, just in case."

Nodding, I slowly began to process the information they had given me.

The principal turned to me, and handed me her business card. "You don't have to make a decision today, please think on it over the week. When you have made your decision, please contact me.

"We have two additional recommendations. We understand that Isadora is very bright. As such, we think it may be prudent for you to have her intelligence tested, so that the school can more adequately cater to her needs, either by placing her in a grade that matches her intellectual needs, or by providing extra work for her in a lower grade. Secondly, we suggest that you enroll her in music lessons. Isadora shows a high level of mathematical aptitude. While there is not a direct link between mathematical intelligence and musical ability, many musicians have very high mathematical abilities. The task of learning an instrument may help to reduce her boredom at school. We have a number of instrumental teachers on staff, as well as links with the university."

Nodding mutely, I swallowed, making sure my throat was clear before I began to speak to the three educators sitting in front of me.

"Thank you for your concern. I myself skipped several grades, and understand the frustration that sitting in classes that are far too easy can bring. I am glad that she has not acted out, disrupting your classes, but I know how stressful it can be trying to cater for someone who has such different educational needs to the rest of the class. Based on this, I really don't need a week to think about it. Beginning next term, I would love for Isadora to be in the second grade. If it is available, I would like to take the curriculum she needs to catch up on home with me. She will be so happy to be in Freja's class! Those two are becoming inseparable.

"Do you have someone who works in the district who can assess her intelligence? Or is that something I need to organise myself?"

Smiling, the principal let me know that someone would come to the school to assess her, and that the consent forms would be mailed to me when it was arranged. Your teacher had clearly been hoping that I would choose to move you up to the second grade, because she reached under her chair and passed me a folder containing the rest of the years first grade curriculum, and the curriculum already covered by the second grade. Promising to look into musical tuition, I left, feeling much lighter than when I arrived.

You were thrilled with the mental stimulation learning the curriculum provided, and in the ten days we had over Christmas, you finished the first grade curriculum, and were well into the second grade work. In fact, when you arrived back at school, happy to be in Freja's class, you were only a few weeks behind the other children.

Following the advice of the principal, I had looked into music lessons. Seeing the prices that some of the professional teachers charged, I decided to look into student teachers. Although I played the viola, I had started on the violin, and wanted to give you a choice between violin and piano. I had found you both instruments, within my price range. When I gave you the choice, you couldn't decide between the two. So, we decided on a trial period of three months, where you would take lessons on both instruments, then you would decide which you liked better.

Darling girl, I often forgot that you were only five when we were having these discussions. You seemed so much older, so mature, that I sometimes would forget that you were just a child, my little baby.

Through my orchestra, I had found you teachers for both instruments. Both of them were international students, who spoke minimal English, and had limited ability to work. In exchange for your lessons, forty five minutes for each instrument each week, I agreed to spend an hour a week having conversations with them, helping them to improve their English. Before agreeing to this, we carefully checked each of their visa requirements, and the arrangement would not jeopardise the visas of either girl.

Your violin teacher was a tiny Indian girl, Rajkumari. She seemed shy, but I couldn't tell if that was because if she actually was, or because she simply didn't feel confident speaking English. The first conversation I had with her, she introduced herself, using her full name, before quickly asking me to call her Bala. Bala, she explained, just meant young, and was used as a nickname to differentiate her from a great aunt, also named Rajkumari. Bala was an undergraduate studying music at Cornell, and hoped to become a professional musician in the future. She was so tiny that I was amazed she was able to even hold her full sized instrument. Years later, she confided that her parents had commissioned a 7/8ths, unable to find an instrument that suited her size and ability.

Your piano teacher was well suited to her name, Brîska. Her name meant 'glitter,' she told me and it was true. You couldn't help but watch her, she shined, glimmered, bursting with exuberant life. A Christian, Iraqui, Kurdish national by birth, she had left the country just a few weeks before she was due to start university at the beginning of the year. Days after leaving, she learnt that fighting had broken out in her home town, and she was unsure of the fate of her family, friends, everything she had ever known. She also learnt that it was unsafe for her to return home, with rebel armies persecuting non-muslims in the country, and non-Arab people within the country. Over the course of our conversations, I learnt that her family had suspected that there would be a new war break out, and it was one of the reasons she had been allowed to come to university in the US. She had hope that her family was still alive, and had fled to Turkey. Brîska was a masters student, studying comparative literature. Her written English had only just passed the level needed for acceptance, but her spoken level was well below where it needed to be. She knew, even before I had advertised the exchange, that she needed to work on her written and verbal skills.

When I compared our schedules with Brîska and Bala, Sundays turned out to be the only time we would all be able to meet. We arranged that both girls would come to our apartment for the lessons, and the conversations. You would have your violin lesson in the morning, and Bala and I would have morning tea as we chatted. Then, you would have a piano lesson after lunch, and Brîska and I would chat over afternoon tea. For both girls, I would provide tea, coffee, and a baked good. I had found a CWA cookbook in a charity store - a rare find, given that it was an Australian book - and slowly made my way through the recipes for cakes, pies, biscuits and scones. Some worked better than others, and I soon developed favourite recipes, ones that I would repeat.

At the end of your three month trial, you still hadn't decided which instrument you preferred. You would practice each for twenty minutes each day, and both teachers felt you were progressing nicely. I had had a short phone conversation with your second grade teacher, and she told me that while you still often finished your work well before the other children, you seemed less bored in class. While I had informed Bala and Brîska that the arrangement was only temporary, I ended up making the decision for you. I truly hope that you don't resent my decision, but in the three months I had known both girls, I had become attached to both of them. They had both become some of my closest friends.

So, darling girl, I decided that you would continue lessons on both instruments.

A month before school ended for the summer holidays, I had another meeting with your teachers. You had sat the aptitude and intelligence testing, and the meeting was to decide the best course of action for you.

Your teachers told me that you were intellectually well above your classmates, still. You were reading at a fifth grade level, and your mathematical and spatial abilities were at a fourth grade level. Socially, you were well adjusted, and didn't seem to be adversely affected by the grades you skipped. Again, your emotional and social intelligence scores had placed you above the average for your age.

Like before, your teachers counseled me that ultimately, the decision as to how to manage your education was mine. The told me that I could allow you to move up a single grade with your classmates, or that I could choose to skip you another grade, placing you in the fourth grade the next academic year. This time, I though far harder about my decision. You had already skipped half of kindergarten, half of the first grade and half of the second grade. You turned six at the end of the academic year. Moving you into the fourth grade would mean that you were three years younger than your classmates, children who either would be nine, or turn nine during the year.

The thought scared me, but I knew how bright you were. You still finished all your work early, never had homework, and read voraciously. I asked if I could think on it a week, and went home to talk to you.

In the end, it was you who made the decision. You were so excited to move up to the fourth grade, excited to be learning harder things. That summer, we went through the third grade curriculum, and you absorbed it all, eager and ready to learn. The speed that you learnt things when I was working with you that summer was enough to convince me it was the right decision to let you skip another grade.

Especially when school started again, and I walked you to class, seeing just how much tinier than all your classmates you were. You looked elfin, pixie-like, tiny and breakable.

Your joy when I picked you up that afternoon washed away any residual fear I held. You were glowing with excitement, with the joy of learning and the love you had for knowledge. A week after term started again, I rang your new teacher to check your progress. I had no concerns about you academically, but was worried how you were fitting in with the other children. I really had nothing to worry about though. You had been taken under the wing by two of the girls in your class, and they seemed to protect you from the rest of the class. She said that you were fitting in well, that you were keeping up, and that you only finished your work marginally ahead of the other children.

You seemed to have hit your stride.


	12. Book One Lilly - C11 Going South

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

My darling girl, the next few years passed without any real incident. Both of us found a groove, both academically and socially, and we seemed to stick to it.

While you were in the fourth grade, I was in the second year of my PhD. I had finalised my thesis topic, and had begun to research it. I had settled on researching the links between religiosity and intelligence on teen pregnancy. Thanks to my psychology degree, I was able to be trained in the administration of intelligence testing, and so was able to get more accurate correlations between intelligence and birth rates. Religiosity was harder to research, but I had found several psychological measures that I also trained to test. My research involved traveling to communities to conduct interviews with community members, and we spent most of your mid year school breaks traveling to southern parts of America. I had limited my research to the US, but decided not to limit the religions I studied. I found it enlightening to travel to the South and talk to teen mothers, testing them and interviewing them about the reasons for teen motherhood, their experiences and the responses they had received. Many of them opened up to more than they would have opened up to other researchers, because of my age and because of you darling. I told them about you, and how I was a teen mother. Most of them were surprised, but for some of them, I saw something more than that in their reactions. I saw a flicker of hope and of something else, a sense of there being more than being just a single mother. As part of the protocol from conducting these types of experiments, I provided all the girls with my email address. I had two withdraw themselves from the study, but the rest stayed. Every now and then, even now, I am receiving emails from girls in my sample groups thanking me, telling me that they realised when they met me that there was more, that you could do the education and single mother thing. One of the girls is training to be a doctor, several are nurses and midwives, one is a costumer, another is a horticulturalist and several are hairdressers. Every email I receive from them is uplifting, and I'm glad I could give them that inspiration, that indication that there was more than just being so and so's single mum.

I was fascinated the range of people I was able to interview, and thankful that you were happy to come with me on each of these trips. In total, I interviewed a sample of almost two hundred teen mothers, from thirty-five states and seventy cities. I would have loved to make a larger sample group, because I was highly worried about it being a true sample group, but I didn't have funding for any other interviews.

Nessa and I had continued the tradition of you going to her house one afternoon a week, and Freja coming here once a week. I had been worried that Freja would resent you for skipping a grade above her, but luckily she didn't. You two were still inseparable, and you had involved her in your group in school, with the two girls who took you under their wings that first day, Jessie and Maddie. The four of you became quite an unstoppable force, and soon Jessie and Maddie were included in the weekly sleepovers. You would rotate through the four families, and each time you would giggle and laugh, pretending to be asleep when you were checked on.

You continued to learn violin and piano, and I changed your lesson times to be back to back. Neither Brîska or Bala minded, and we would spend most Sundays chatting, working, and eating. As our friendship developed, so did the arrangement I had with them. They would bring me written work to edit, and on Sundays we would just hang out like friends. Often, Nessa and Freja would join us, and the conversation would continue long into the night, the coffee and hot chocolate of the day being switched for wine as evening set in.

As you got older, it became easier to arrange my study schedule. When you started fifth grade, you started catching the bus to and from school. I would arrive home half an hour later, and we would talk about our days, our plans for the week.

By the time you started middle school in the sixth grade, I was on the home stretch of my thesis, baby girl. I would get home an hour and a half after you did, and we would talk, eat dinner, and relax. Generally, by the time I was home, you would have completed what little homework you had, and I made sure to give you my full attention. Later in the evenings, I would either work on my thesis or in my research assistant job for Abaigael, before falling into bed, exhausted.

By that Christmas, my thesis was written and handed it in. That January, I defended it, and passed. My methods were more scientific than other Gender Studies theses, but they supported my argument well enough that it wasn't a problem. My final finding was that higher intelligence linked to lower levels of religiosity and lower levels of teen pregnancy.

I had managed to save a little money during our time in Ithaca, and that gave me a grace period to find a job. With my thesis handed in, I no longer received the full stipend from the university. However, I was still on a small wage, having several courses that I was a TA for. This gave me a bit of leeway finding a permanent position, with the university sponsoring my visa while I finished my commitments for the academic year.

In order to switch my visas across, I needed to leave the country for a day or two. So, we decided to visit Vere for Christmas. Bala, Brîska, Nessa and Freja had become regular fixtures in our holiday traditions. As a celebration of handing in my thesis, as well as Christmas, we decided to hire a van and drive up to Ottawa to visit Vere and her husband Bleddyn for the holidays. You know Bleddyn as Uncle Dyn.

The drive was long, and for the first time I drove on the wrong side of the road. I know that you don't really remember living in Australia, that you sound American (well, not quite. You have an American accent with an Australian base. It's cute really), but I still haven't gotten over the cars driving on the right side on the road, not the left like when I learnt to drive at home. I was happy to be driving with Nessa by my side, because not only was I driving on the wrong side of the road, I was driving for the first time since arriving in the country almost three and a half years earlier.

Vere was thrilled to see you again. We had only visited once since arriving in America, although I spoke to her and we emailed regularly. She spoiled you silly that week, and we were lucky to have bought a van with us, otherwise we wouldn't have been able to get all the gifts home. The holiday was fun, and I was glad to see all my friends getting along so well. Vere and the other girls bonded well, and you and Freja were thrilled to meet (or catch up with in your case), Vere's daughter Leiya. The three of you became thick as thieves that week, and it started a tradition of a weeklong trip each year, either down to Ithaca to stay with us, or up to Ottawa to stay with Vere.

Two days before Christmas eve, as I sat around, I realised that the trip was one of the best Christmas presents I had ever experienced. Almost my entire family was with me. I was only missing Ad, and Fern and Tabb. Vere saw my smile, but she also saw the sadness behind it. She didn't ask me why, but I think she knew. Despite our years apart, nothing had changed. We were as close as ever, she was still a sister to me.

She got up, squeezing my arm on the way past. Addressing the room, she said, " Dyn and I have to go out for an hour or so, are you all okay here? I'll have my cell with me, just call if you need anything, and help yourselves to anything in the kitchen."

The rest of us fell back into conversation, enjoying the chance to relax away from all our responsibilities. I barely noticed the time passing that day, but when I looked up at the clock, was amazed that almost two hours had passed. Assuming that Vere and Dyn had gone Christmas shopping, and that the shops were a last minute nightmare, I thought nothing of it.

Until, about half an hour later, Vere and Dyn arrived home. As they walked into the house, there were not two sets of footfalls, but six. Hearing the voices, I looked towards the front door, wondering who had come for a visit. I assumed it was a few of Vere's friends.

How wrong I was.

Ushered by Vere and Dyn, in walked Fern, Tabb, Ad, and his boyfriend Eli (Cornelius).

I was speechless. I mean, I should have known something was happening when Vere kept insisting we make more and more of the pierogi for the Christmas Eve dinner, buying more food than I knew we would eat. But, I thought she was just getting into the spirit of over catering. It had never occurred to me that she might be catering for four extra people!

I must have been standing there like a fish out of water, my mouth silently opening and shutting. Fern walked over to me, closing the gap between us, gently closing my mouth before enveloping me in a hug.

"Merry Christmas, honey. We knew that you were handing your thesis in, and we thought it would be the perfect time to come and celebrate with you. And I have to say, I'm thrilled to be finally meeting Vere, Dyn, Ad and Eli in person. Emails and skype just aren't the same."

I was speechless. I just stood there, hugging this girl who had been such a rock for me at home, not sure what to say, not even sure if I was able to move with the shock and gratitude I was feeling. Slowly, my brain began to catch up, and I realised what Fern had just said.

"Wait, what? What do you mean, finally meet, and skype isn't the same?" I stared at my friends, confused at the implications of her words.

"Do you remember how I had the room all set up for you when you first got home to Australia? Well, to figure out what you had, and what you would need, I contacted Vere and Ad. The original email I sent to them slowly morphed into something more than the information I was seeking. It, I dunno, slowly became me getting to know these two. I have kept in contact with them ever since. We became friends." She shrugged, clearly feeling that her answer was sufficient.

"By why did you not tell me? Why didn't you let me know that my best friends, Isa's godparents, were friends?"

"I don't know honey," she replied. "Somehow, I just never got to it in conversation. Believe me, I didn't keep the information from you out of malice."

Mollified, I stepped back from her, turning to the rest of them, hugging them each in turn. Vere had bustled to the kitchen, and returned with a tray bearing hot chocolate, poutine, and enough forks for us all to dig in. We sat down, and Vere, Ad and Fern explained how they had arranged their trip, arranged their flights to arrive within twenty minutes of each other.

It was their present to me.

As I looked around the room, I was flooded with a sense of love and happiness. I was surrounded by my family, all of them. Well, that isn't true. The gathering was missing one person, someone that I didn't know how to contact, didn't who even know they were part of this family. Your father. I felt a twinge of grief at the lost relationship, a feeling that happened every once and again, even now. I pushed the feeling down, determined to be happy in this gathering. I knew how rare this gathering was, considering we lived on three continents in four different countries.

Despite Jasper's absence, I was happy, and loved.

Christmas went smoothly, with us all eating too much, with gifts exchanged, laugher and good times shared. For the dinner of Christmas Eve, we were joined by Vere's parents, her brothers, sister, their partners and children. In total, we had twenty six people at the dinner, more than I had ever catered for. Despite my fears surrounding feeding so many people, the night went well, smoothly, as we talked, ate, and enjoyed the company of those around us.

For New Year's Eve, Vere's parents watched you, Freja and Leiya while Vere, Dyn, Fern, Tabb, Ad, Eli, Brîska, Bala and I went out for the evening. It had been so long since I had been out like this, I had forgotten the fun it would be. In some ways, I skipped parts of my development, parts like my early adult years, the years that typically have no commitments, that people my age spend partying and drinking.

As much fun as I had that night, my darling girl, I would not trade you for the world.

When we got home, and my thesis defense was finished, I began looking for jobs in earnest. I didn't totally know what I what I wanted to do, despite my years of study. I applied to anything and everything, interviewed so many times that I began to feel a weird sense of de ja vue.

I was looking primarily at jobs available in Ithaca, not wanting to disrupt you from your education. While I had, and still have, certain misgivings about the American educational system, I didn't want to disrupt you, to tear you away from your friends, and me from mine.

I had almost given up hope, and was a few days off biting the bullet and applying to jobs out of area, when I found an ad for a job the university had just made available.

It turned out, that the person due to be coming back from maternity leave the next year, had decided that she was much happier at home with her children, and so her job had opened up. It was within my department, and while outside of the area I had written on and taught about previously, touched on one of my other interests: vampire fiction.

I was so excited about this job, knowing that this was the perfect position for me. I applied, crossing my fingers that I would be interviewed. When I was rung the day after submitting my application, I could barely contain my excitement. The secretary for the department, who was scheduling the interviews, explained that with the academic year finishing in less than a fortnight, they wanted to fill the position as soon as possible. My interview was to be in four days.

I went into the interview nervous, but excited. I had researched the courses I the position covered, the requirements of the position, and I knew the department well through my time there as a PhD student. The courses were taught in the way I preferred, groups of no more than fifteen students in a seminar environment, rather than the usual lecture and tutorial combination.

As the interview progressed, I became increasingly confident. The panel understood my visa position, and seemed to like me. I felt I answered the questions intelligently, and I was getting a very positive feeling from them.

When I got home, I was a nervous wreck. I desperately wanted this job, knowing it was perfect for me. Yet, I was never sure that I was qualified for anything, and kept second guessing myself. I hadn't seen any of the other candidates, which only served to make me progressively more nervous.

A totally unfounded response, my darling. Because, just two days after my interview, I was informed that I had been offered the position. I accepted immediately, thrilled to be getting a job I wanted so much. I managed to arrange a six year contract with the university, covering us until the end of your years at high school. The university would sponsor my visa, and we were able to stay in the country for the rest of your schooling.

Again, I needed to leave the country to switch my visas across. We decided to go south this time, visiting Dallas and Houston before going to Mexico. As we wandered the streets of Houston, I felt a pang of regret, of homesickness, as the accents of the city reminded me of your father.

Mexico was bustling, vibrant, everything I had expected of it. Your Spanish helped us through the country, although I knew that many of the people we encountered probably spoke English anyway.

When we returned home, we were tanned, and refreshed.

We were ready to start the next chapter of our lives, my darling girl.

Author's Note: once again, the thesis finding was just something I made up. I have no idea if there is any link between religiosity or intelligence or teen pregnancy.

For those of you wondering, poutine is a canadian dish that consists of hot chips covered in gravy and melted cheese. It is amazing and delicious.

North Americans, a fortnight is two weeks. While used frequently in both Australian and UK english, the term confuses most of my North American friends.


	13. Book One Lilly - C12 High School

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

My darling girl, you breezed through middle school. It was easy for you, alarmingly so, but you were already three years younger than your classmates, and I really didn't want to have you skip another year. None of your teachers thought it was necessary though, which relaxed me.

Your years at middle school were almost like a holding pattern, with you just waiting to get to the good stuff, the real education.

To high school.

Your first week of high school was possibly the most frightening time of my life. You were ten, and tiny. Something you clearly inherited from me. There is no way that you would have been so petite if your father's genes had anything to do with it. Not with his six foot frame. No, you had me to blame for your tiny stature. Although, a bigger factor was probably the fact that you were ten. Your classmates were fourteen and fifteen, all in puberty, all through their growth spurts. They towered over you, and it sacred me. I was thrilled that Jessie and Maddie continued to be your friends, shielding you from the larger kids around you. Socially, intellectually, you fit in so well with the older kids, but I still felt a pang of panic each time I saw you surrounded by them. Because, there was no way you fitted in physically.

You loved your classes at high school. You were so excited whenever you got home, telling me about your day, about what you learned, about your homework, and assignments. You were on the pathway to take AP classes in your final year, and were loving the academic rigour that was already being required of you, in preparation. You were happy, and that allayed all my fears.

Two weeks after you started high school, I gave you what I am sure you still think is the strangest gift I have ever given. But please, hear out my logic. It makes sense. Really.

I know what it is like to have skipped grades. I skipped two myself, graduating at fifteen. You are a year ahead of me, you'll graduate high school at a mere fourteen years of age. So, I know what it is like to be exposed to that world. To be surrounded by people who are experiencing, experimenting with their sexuality, who have gone through puberty.

So, in those first weeks of high school, I bought you a vibrator. Mainly, because I needed something to help me open the door to communication. I know we had talked about sex before then, but I really didn't want our relationship to be like the one I had with my mother. When I was maybe eleven, she left two books of sex, one on reproduction and one on puberty on my desk with a stack of pads. That was our discussion. I wanted to be able to talk about these things with you, to have it not be a taboo subject, one that we buried our heads like ostriches and ignored.

And so, I got you the vibrator. As a communication tool, it totally worked. We had a long conversation about sex that day. You were curious what the vibrator did, what the point was, what an orgasm felt like. You asked me why I didn't date, if sex hurt, and so much more. We talked and bonded, and I was left with a pleasant feeling, knowing that you at least had enough information to guide yourself through high school.

I did make one thing very clear. That the age of consent is there for your protection, and while I had nothing against you having sex, I really, really wanted you to wait until you were at least able to legally consent. We discussed the different laws of consent, but I made sure that you understood that in New York the age of consent was seventeen. We talked about the inconsistencies of the law, and how if you crossed the border into Canada, provided that the person you were having sexual contact with was less than two years older than you, the age of consent was as young as twelve, and how in Australia, the age of consent was sixteen. We talked about what consent even meant, and that you could stop at any point. How consent was not always verbal. How the boy (or girl) had to respect your boundaries, and when you said no, they had no right to go any further, no right to try to ignore your wishes. How once you said no, any further action that you don't consent is sexual abuse or rape.

We talked about contraception, and how it wasn't perfect. I had never hidden the fact that you were unplanned from you, but that night, I told you far more than I ever had. I explained how I was on the pill, and how we used condoms, but that I still fell pregnant. We talked about STDs, or STIs. The terminology has changed since I was a teenager, and I still get confused as to which is the correct term. By the time I have it figured out, it will probably change again.

And we talked about orgasms. How yours was just as important as the guys. That you could have mind blowing orgasms, and sex was better if you did. Less painful, more enjoyable. That the orgasm was not a bartering chip. That no one had the right to say 'if I do this for you, I expect you to do that for me.' I didn't try to explain the feeling of an orgasm to you, saying you would understand when you had one, and that with the right person, they were better than anything you could ever imagine. I encouraged you to try the vibrator if you were curious, or not. It was your choice. I never did ask if you tried it out, because I really didn't want to know.

The conversation was uncomfortable and awkward at times, and we both spent most of the time blushing, but I am still glad we had had it. I am glad that our relationship allowed us to be so open with each other. Or, had allowed us to be open enough to have the conversation.

Three weeks into your freshman year, you begged to be allowed to try out for the cheerleading team. I knew that like everything else you did, you would shine, that there was no way you couldn't get into the squad. But, your size scared me. I had been to games at Cornell, and while the cheerleaders were amazing to watch, the flyers had a really dangerous task. And you were, still are, so small that I was petrified you would become a flyer.

So, reluctantly, I gave my permission for you to try out.

Of course, you got onto the squad. So did Maddie, although Jessie had no interest in even trying out. That first year, you were on the reserve squad, building up stamina, strength and flexibility. You learned all the cheers that the A squad knew, just in case any of you had to be called in last minute to fill a space. It happened at two basketball games, and one football game. Each time you stepped onto court, onto the field, I was petrified for you, proud of you. The emotions warred inside me. That first year, your feet stayed firmly on the ground, and pride mostly won.

From the second year onwards, that all changed. You were moved up to the A squad, and made a flyer. You had to beg me for a week to sign the permission forms for that one. I knew that you would be brilliant, but I was so scared for you, being thrown and caught by the other kids. The one thing that made me feel slightly better was having seen the flyers the previous year. The people catching them were mainly boys, big strong boys at that.

The first game you performed at, as a flyer, I almost couldn't watch. My fear definitely won. Sitting next to me, Nessa calmed me, holding my hand, talking to me as you were thrown, as you kicked and spun.

I was right about one thing. You were amazing.

Being on the cheer squad gave you a whole new group of friends. The other girls were fiercely protective of you, a quality I was pleased with in them. You made friends with the footballers and basket ballers, and you had a big burly boy to escort you from each class. I was initially concerned that the boys would take advantage of you, but after observing you talk to them after matches, I began to feel better. They acted like big brothers, stubbornly protective.

Your friendship with the cheerleaders put you on the top of the high school food , at the same time, you were friends with the other geeks in your classes, with the drama and music students. In fact, I was sure that you were friends with everyone in the school. I know that is an exaggeration, but it felt like that.

You started to be invited to parties, hosted by people from all social groups. More often than not, your verbal invitation would be accompanied by a business card for a parent, or a scrap of paper with a number scribbled on it. Those parties that you didn't get a phone number from, I simply refused to let you go to. Of the rest, I would talk to the parents, get a feel of the supervision, who would be there. And if I felt it wasn't going to be a kegger, I would let you go. I know that embarrassed you, but you are the most important part of my world. Your safety means everything to me.

My job with the university was going well, and I was enjoying it. I found that I genuinely enjoyed my interactions with the students, although most of them were surprised to see just how young I was. Because I had finished school early, and not done a masters program, even with my five year undergrad degree and time off, at thirty I was still younger than any of them expected to be when they finished their PhDs. And, that was my second year teaching. Several of my students were actively considering the masters or PhD route, and none of them expected to be finished before they were twenty-nine or thirty, and I had already been working several years.

I loved the material I was teaching, and the opportunity it gave me to read vampire fiction. The genre had always been a guilty pleasure of mine, so to be able to read it for my job was wonderful. My bookshelves slowly filled with the books, modern and classic. Several held special positions in my heart. _Dracula, The Vampire Academy,_ and _The Historian_ were among my favourites. Even before I started teaching the vampire courses, I often read a few chapters of vampire fiction to relax my mind before I went to sleep.

The small group classes provided me an opportunity to use a variety of teaching methods, and my favourite became getting the students to present a short seminar on a specific vampire text. They would be expected to pick a book (or, a series, depending on the depth and sophistication of the writing), and select a chapter for the class to read, along with a theorist to use to analyse the text. They often surprised me in their choices, and while I knew that public speaking was a fear for many students, the small group atmosphere made it easier for them to present.

I continued to work for Abaigael, and put money into your college fund. It was slowly growing, and I hoped that it would be enough to cover your fast approaching higher education. Because of the stipend I had received while doing my PhD, I hadn't used all of my college fund, and so was able to donate a decent proportion of it to your college fund. You still didn't know where you wanted to go to school, but as you really didn't have to figure that out until your senior year, I didn't press you about it. The one thing I tried to make clear to was that you didn't have to stay in Ithaca. In fact, you didn't even have to stay in America. I had become tenured at Cornell, and while it would be a pain to move to a new university and have to go through that process again, I was prepared to do it. I just couldn't imagine sending you to dorms all by yourself at only fourteen. And most wouldn't accept you.

As you went through high school, you stayed on the principal's list every semester. I was so proud of you, so proud of your achievements. The principal's roll meant you had a GPA above 4.0 each semester (something I didn't know was possible until it happened) so I knew that you would have no problems getting into whatever college or university program you wanted. The whole GPA thing still confuses me. I had alway thought that a GPA only went to 4.0, but it seemed to go higher, at least at your high school.

In the summer before your senior year, we began the process of looking at schools for you. I had saved carefully, and organised a two week trip to the UK for us, to visit Ox-bridge, University College London, Imperial College London, King's College London, Edinburgh Uni, Manchester and Bristol. And, of course to visit Ad and Eli. The trip was a bit of a whirl wind visit, but by the time we left, you had decided that you didn't want to go to any of the London universities, or Bristol or Manchester. For the UK, we had managed to narrow the list down to just three possibilities: Edinburgh, Cambridge and Oxford. And, thanks to the admissions process for Ox-bridge, just two applications.

America was harder. You were interested in all the Ivy schools: Brown, Columbia, Cornell, Dartmouth, Harvard, Princeton, Pennsylvania and Yale. Luckily, all of them were nearby, so the trips were easy. You were also interested in Duke, Stanford, UCLA and UCB in the US, McGill, UBC and Toronto in Canada. You had briefly looked at my undergrad university, the Australian National University, but decided it wasn't right for you. While I did occasionally miss Canberra (especially when it snowed. I still really hate snow), I wasn't worried that you didn't want to return to the country I had stopped calling home many years before.

You ruled out most of the big city universities almost immediately, and slowly narrowed your list down. I let you do this on your own, not worried that you would make the wrong choice. You also looked into scholarships at each of the possibilities. Despite being counted as an international student at all the places you were considering, your grades and US education meant that you were eligible for a large number of the scholarships.

The week before you stated your senior year, you had narrowed your list down to two UK universities, Cambridge and Oxford; two Canadian universities, McGill and Toronto; and five US universities Brown, Dartmouth, Harvard, Princeton, Yale. I knew that whichever one you eventually chose, I would be able to get a job somewhere on staff. In your thirteen years of life, you were still the centre of my universe, and I was prepared to go where ever you needed me to.

That year, you loved your AP classes. You loved the stimulation they provided, and I swelled with pride each time you received a grade for a piece of work.

Slowly, throughout the year, responses began to trickle in from the universities you had applied to. Every university you had applied to had accepted you, with the exception of Ox-bridge. Because of their admission policy, you had been accepted to Oxford university. Half of the universities had offered you scholarships, ranging from partial to complete cover of your tuition costs.

I swear, every time we received one of those envelopes in the post, you looked so shocked. You really didn't seem to believe that you could get into any of them, let alone all of them. In some ways, it made your decision harder. You had hoped to have some of the decisions made for you, to have some universities ruled out because they didn't accept you. Instead, you were faced with nine acceptance letters. And then the hard part began.

You still weren't sure what exactly you wanted to do with yourself. My darling girl, I am not surprised by this. I mean, what thirteen or fourteen year old does? I still don't know how you came to this conclusion, but somehow you stared to rule out options. In the end, you were left with three choices. Brown, Oxford and McGill. They were all offering you scholarships for full tuition, and all required a move. They all had subjects that you were interested in, and all had high academic standings. All three were top thirty universities.

Having gotten to this decision, you slowly began to narrow the choices down. We couldn't afford to visit Oxford again, but revisited both Brown and McGill. In these visits, I began to get a sense of your decision. I think the size of McGill scared you, as did the bilingualism, and I think Oxford was just too far away for you.

And so, a week after revisiting the campus, you had accepted your place in Brown University.

Darling girl, I was so proud of you and your decision.

I immediately set about find a job for myself at Brown. I was lucky, and they had a very strong Gender Studies department. My tenure at Cornell, as well as my years of teaching experience, and wide ranging interest and knowledge base seemed to put me in a good position. Less than a week after sending a general application, I was contacted for an interview. After an initial half hour phone interview, I went to Brown for a longer, face to face interview. During the interview, I explained my situation with you, and was hired on the spot. This stunned me, but also gave me the confidence to negotiate a higher salary, and a four year contract with visa sponsorship and the possibility of a longer contract if I wished.

The day that Brown offered me the contract, I finally quit my job with Abaigael. Working for her for twelve years had been amazing, a lifesaver really, but I was tired. I had worked my butt off to provide for you, and I needed the break. Abaigael was amazing. She gave me a huge bonus, as thanks for the years of work I had put into the company. I carefully put the bonus into a high interest bank account, earmarking it as a deposit for a house. I think the bonus was more a gift from Abaigael than something to do with the work I've done, but the way she offered it to me I couldn't help but accept it. She knows me well enough, I guess, to know that if she'd offered it to me as a straight out gift, I would have rejected it on the spot.

With that, before you even graduated from high school, we were set up for the next four years of our lives. I had a job, you had a school, we had a plan.

I swear, the day you graduated was the proudest moment of my life my darling girl. Your school went all out, robes, caps, speeches, the whole shebang. I had known how good your grades were. You were in honours or AP classes, on the principals list, getting consistent A+'s.

What I didn't realise was that you were valedictorian.

You had insisted on me coming to your graduation, and I had readily agreed. There was no way I was missing it, no way that I would be anywhere but in the gym that day.

I was truly touched by your speech. You talked about the people you had met, the friends you had made while here. The acceptance the school had offered, despite being so much younger than your peers. How you could, just have easily, been a target for bullying. And then, you talked about me. You told them the fairee tale. I hadn't told it to you in years, yet you remembered it word for word. You explained what it had meant to you, and what it should mean to the rest of your class. That it didn't matter what happened, life was a fairee tale, something to be enjoyed. That sometimes the wicked witch would put a curse on you, but if you looked, there was always a fairee godmother to make it right again. You encouraged your classmates to look around the room. "These are your fairee godmothers. Each of us has the power to help fix what the wicked witch has done. Each of us can be a fairee godmother to someone else. Take that, and put it to use. Congratulations, my graduating friends!"

I couldn't help but cry at the end of my speech. I knew who my fairee godmothers were. They are your godparents.

And you, my darling daughter, you were the best gift I had ever gotten.


	14. Book One Lilly - C13 Surprises

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

My darling girl, but the time you graduated high school I had given up any hopes of ever finding Jasper. The trail was cold, and lets face it, 'Jasper from Houston' was never a very good lead anyway. Although there were moments that my heart ached for him, still, almost fifteen years after I had last seen him, I knew that I didn't really expect anything from him. He was a gorgeous boy, who would have grown into an amazing gentleman.

The one thing I wanted was to tell him that he had a daughter, and that she was beautiful.

A week before we moved to Providence, the night of your prom and final sleepover, Brîska, Bala, Nessa and I went out on a final girls night out. You girls ranged in age from fourteen to eighteen, so we figured it was safe to leave you at home for one last sleepover. After all, we would all be saying goodbye to some close friends in a few short days. To parts of our family.

While you girls sat around at home, eating pizza, doing makeup, and really, god knows what else, we went out to dinner, a movie, and were thinking of going dancing.

Dinner was pleasant, and I greatly enjoyed the company of the women sitting at the table with me. I was sad to know that we wold be leaving them soon, but knew that we would keep in touch. After all, we were only a few hours drive away, far better than the half way around the world like some of my other friends. The conversation flowed easily, and I was glad for a final night with these women.

As we moved from the restaurant to the cinema, we continued chatting. We arrived in the cinema with plenty of time to spare, and despite having just eaten dinner, I ordered a nachos from the candy bar. I rarely ate these any more, and I had not delusions that they even resembled real food, but I had become hooked on them while I was in England. I blame Vere, despite the fact that she didn't eat them herself. She would grab popcorn, which I don't eat, and something had made me try the weird nachos. I loved them, and they became part of my cinema experience. Vere and I went to a heap of films the year we were in England, so I had eaten my fair share of cinema nachos.

Settling into the cinema seats, I relaxed, looking forward to the movie. As always, I watched the trailers, earmarking the ones I wanted to see later. Some seemed a little, well, pointless, or uninteresting to me. Others seemed to have a little bit of potential. I was excited to see one trailer though. The previous year, my favourite book, The Gunslinger had been transformed into a movie. Though I knew how bad the adaptation could potentially be, I had gone to see it and was amazed. The film makers had been incredibly true to the book while making the film interesting and lively, and without making it hideously long. I had never encountered any of the actors before, but thought they all, especially the boy who played Jake, had real potential. I had heard rumours from friends that the second book was also going to be transformed into a film, but had yet to see any real evidence of it.

So, when Roland walked onto the screen, I couldn't help but give a small squeal of joy. _Drawing of Three_ had been turned into a movie! I was in seventh heaven, or there abouts. I continued to watch, eager to see who had been cast as Eddie and Sussannah, when _he_ appeared on my screen.

Jasper.

Jasper was playing Eddie.

If I hadn't been sitting down already, I would have fallen over. As it was, I nearly fainted with shock. The boy I had met had been about to start university. He was undecided about what he was going to do, but was thinking of majoring in history and fine arts, not acting.

But the person on screen was unmistakably Jasper.

I'm not sure what else was advertised before the movie. I'm not even sure what the movie was like. Honestly, I can't even remember the name of what we went to see. I was in a state of shock, numb to the outside world. When the credits rolled and the lights brightened, my friends chatted brightly, and I followed them from the cinema, deep in thought. While they knew about the situation with Isadora's father, I had never given them the full version of the story. Vere and Ad were the only two who I had told, in those days after my initial shock at being pregnant passed.

I have no idea what the girls thought about my behaviour after the movie. But, thankfully, they didn't question it. They let me be a bit numb, making sure I got home safely, before returning home themselves. I briefly checked in with you girls, then locked myself in my room. For the first time since we moved to Ithaca all those years ago, I used the lock on my bedroom door.

As soon as I was locked in and settled on my bed, sitting cross legged with the lap top in front of me, I logged onto imdb, looking up the new Gunslinger movie. Looking for his name. Something that I had wanted for the last fifteen years.

I quickly found the movie, and scrolled through the names of actors. As I scanned the photos, I saw him. His photo reminded me of the guy I had met on my tour. He looked younger, somehow. I moved my eyes across the screen, searching for his name. Next to his picture, there for the world to see, was his name.

Jasper Brandon Whitlock.

I clicked on his name, desperate to find out more of the man that I had stupidly left all those years ago. The man that didn't know of you, his brilliant daughter's existence.

_Drawing of Three_ was not only his first film, but the first and only piece of professional acting listed. He didn't have a bio past his birth date. Mentally calculating, the birth date matched my dates for his age, making him not only look right and have the right first name, but making him the right age. Frustrated with the lack of information imdb was giving me, I moved onto google. I didn't get a whole lot more from google, but I did get his agent's website. Again, I didn't get a bio for Jasper, so had no way of knowing anything else he had done in the last decade and a half.

What I did get, however, was his agent's name. Victoria Samson-Radcliff. All her standard contact details were listed, and I figured that if I contacted him before the movie came out, I wouldn't seem too crazy fan stalkerish.

But first, I had to make some phone calls. I quickly did the calculations of time differences for England and Ottawa, and decided that it was an okay time to call given the circumstances. Quickly, I dialed Vere's number, and when she picked up, I made the conference call to Ad. I knew the phone bill was going to be huge that month, but couldn't find it in myself to care.

Hearing that they were both successfully in the conversation, I started speaking. "So, I have news guys. Are you both near computers?"

They both confirmed that they were, indeed, near a computer and I asked them each to youtube the _Drawing of Three_ trailer.

Once they had both watched it, I started to tell my story. "I went to the movies today. And we saw that trailer. I can't even tell you what the movie was, or if it was any good. All because of that trailer. I was so excited when it came on. I have totally been looking forward to _Drawing of Three_ coming out. I was stoked to see if they had unknowns playing Eddie and Sussannah, or if famous faces were going to jump on the band wagon." Drawing a deep breath, I steeled myself for what I was going to say next. "So, you saw the guy that played Eddie? I imdb'd him. His name is Jasper Brandon Whitlock. He's my Jasper. Isadora's dad Jasper. He's playing a character in one of my favourite books. Books I introduced him to. What do I do? He's going to be all famous now. And I'm just little me. How do I tell about his daughter? How do I explain that I tried to find him, but the tour company wouldn't tell me his name? What if he has found someone else, and doesn't want to know Isadora? _What do I do?"_

I was wailing by the time I finished talking. I had wanted for so long to have a way to find Jasper, to have some way to contact him, that now I did I had no idea what to do with it.

My darling girl, please don't misunderstand. I haven't had a lack in my life, not really. I know I basically haven't dated since I had you, but I have been happy. I have wonderful friends, a wonderful support network, and most importantly, I have you. You fill me with so much love, that I don't need anything else. Anyone else.

But, it worries me that you haven't had a male influence on your life, that you haven't had a chance to know your father. That fates stepped in and stopped us from having at least a chance of a life together.

It was Ad who replied to my wailings. "Baby girl, calm. Isn't this a good thing? Isn't it something that you have wanted? Maybe Mr Sex-God has moved on, and if he has then it is his loss. You and that beautiful girl are amazing. I mean, she turned fourteen what, yesterday? Last week? And is about to start college! And you, you have matured into such an amazing, beautiful, wonderful woman. He would be insane to not want anything to do with you. And if he has found someone else, then you will have to find a way to deal with that. Because, through no fault on either of your parts, it has been almost fifteen years since you last saw him, almost fifteen years that he has not known about Isadora. He had no reason not to move on.

"But, damn girl, he's hot. Age has agreed with him."

The strangely American phrase sounded so weird coming out of my proper (if highly flamboyant) English friend's mouth that I couldn't help but laugh.

"He doesn't have his own contact details listed, but his agent does," Vere started. "I know it is a gamble contacting him through her, because by adding a third party, messages might get lost or confused, but Lilly? I think Victoria might be your best option for telling him.

"You and Isa are still coming up next week to change you visa, right? Well, we can figure out how to write that letter to him then. Does that sound okay? Can you wait the week?"

Nodding mutely, I realised my friends couldn't see me nodding over the phone. "Yes. Can we skype you Ad?"

"Of course, you silly girl. As if you'd be able to stop me from getting involved in this! I'll fly across there if I have to."

As always, Vere and Ad, my fairee godmothers, had managed to calm me, and I no longer felt like I was going to explode. The world came back into focus, and I began to plan.

The first thing, of course was to talk to you. I looked at the time, and realising it was after 4am. And that you had friends around. So, clearly not the time. But later that day, after I had slept, after your friends had gone home, I knew I would have to talk to you. I just didn't know what to say.

That evening, when I sat you down to talk, I was still at a loss for words. Trying to buy myself time, I showed you the trailer for the _Drawing of Three_, then the imdb profile for Jasper.

Drawing a deep breath, I blurted out the only words that I could, the words that had been swirling round my head since seeing the trailer at the cinema the night before.

"The guy playing Eddie is Jasper Brandon Whitlock, your father."

I don't really know what I expected from you, but it definitely wasn't the reaction you gave.

"Oh. Good. When do I get to meet him?"

I was too shocked by your response to even think of something to say. I just sat there, staring at you. So you filled the silence.

"Mum, come on. You are still in love with him. Clearly you're going to contact him. And while you seem really freaked out at the moment, you will deal with this. You raised me by yourself, studied for eighteen months of the first two years of my life, and moved us half way across the world so that you could finish your education. You have saved enough for me to go to any school I want, anywhere. You are about to move away from a job that I know you love, just because I want to go to school somewhere else. You taught me three grades, each in a few short weeks. You had the strength to walk away from your parents when they wanted you to adopt me out.

"You're the strongest person I know. And I know that you are happy with your life. But don't pretend you don't miss him, didn't sometimes wish that he was here with us, that he was part of your life. Part of our lives.

"So, you have to tell him. But, I think you should do a DNA profile of me. It might make him, or his management, take you a bit more seriously. Because, I mean, if you're going to go to the trouble of including a DNA profile of the child of his that you claim to exist, it makes it a bit more believable. A bit less 'I'm-a-crazy-stalker-fan', or 'I'm-a-gold-digger-just-wanting-to-get-some-of-you r-fame-and-money'. A bit more like your claim is real.

"And mum, you're amazing. He was clearly very into you fifteen years ago, I mean, I'm evidence of that. He would be stupid not to want to be part of our lives now. And if he is stupid, then that is his loss."

I was so amazed and proud of you at that moment. You were still my little girl, but somehow along the way, you had become this mature being. My gorgeous girl, you calmed me that day, made me believe that it was all going to be okay. You became my rock, my stability.


	15. Book One Lilly - C14 Letters

_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

My darling girl, our apartment was almost entirely packed up the day we left to go visit Vere. When we returned home, we would have two days to finish everything before we left for Providence. It was exciting and frightening, the feelings warring with each other.

But, of course you know all this. You helped me through, and became an active participant in the move. You packed and cleaned, rang removalists, did things that the last time we moved, I had to do on my own.

We had yet to find a house to live in, but I was looking at several places in the East Providence area, close enough to the university that we could walk, bike or bus in, but far enough away that the rent was not astronomical. And, far enough away that we could finally live in a house with a backyard. While we fitted in our apartments, we didn't crowd each other, I missed the ability to sit in the sun in the backyard, to read, and grow plants larger than the herbs I grew on our windowsills in our apartments.

Visiting Vere again was lovely. The amazing girl I had met in my exchange year had grown and matured, and had become a mildly successful writer. Her name was slowly growing, and I knew that her fame would only increase with time. Every time she released a new book, she sent me a signed copy. They lived on a shelf all to themselves in my room. I always bought an unsigned copy of the books to read. I knew it was silly, but one day her signed books would be very valuable. They are part of your inheritance. Until then, the sentimental value far outweighed what they could ever be worth monetarily.

Vere had taken a week out of her writing schedule to have us visit. Like every other time we visited, you and Leiya got along so well, and you went into the city together, shopped and talked. You kept each other occupied while Vere and I sat down to the frightening task of writing the letter to Jasper.

The process was long, and I won't bore you with it. Suffice to say, it took us most of the week to come up with the final letter. We had skyped Ad almost every day, and with his input, we came up with something we hoped would get through Victoria to Jasper.

The letter ended up being short, and simple. Or, as short and simple as it could possibly be, given the circumstances. You saw the letter before we sent it, but this book would be incomplete without a copy of it.

_Dear Jasper,_

_My name is Lillian Delphine Haig. You know me as Lilly. We met almost fifteen years ago, on a tour through Canada and New England. I was seventeen at the time, and about to start and exchange year at and English university. You were just eighteen, and about to start your own degree. I never knew where. We had an amazing week together, and parted as friends. We parted without ever knowing each other's last names. When we parted, I gave you a book, my favourite book, The Gunslinger. You gave me a cowboy hat. I still have that hat._

_Parting that way is something that I deeply regret. I knew you as 'Jasper from Texas,' information nowhere near specific enough to find you again. I tried to find you after the tour, but the tour operators told me that because of privacy laws, they were unable to tell me your surname._

_Even after I explained my situation to them._

_You see, despite all our precautions that week, I became pregnant. I wanted nothing more than to tell you, but I had no way of contacting you. Until now._

_When I saw you in the trailer for the Drawing of Three, and almost fainted. _

_Your daughter, Isadora Jasper Haig, was born on June 2, 2008. She turned 14 last month. She is amazing. She starts college next in a few months time. I know that she is really young, but she is so bright, Jasper. She received a scholarship covering her full tuition costs to Brown, because of her amazing academic standing._

_I know that this must be a shock to you, but when I saw you in that trailer, I knew I finally had a chance to let you know that you were a father._

_I got my PhD when Isa was 8, and I have been working as a lecturer at Cornell university since. When Isa starts at Brown in the fall, I will be starting a teaching position there. We are comfortable and happy._

_I tell you this, because I want you to know that we don't need anything from you. We haven't realised that you are famous and want your money. I tell you this, because I have spent the last fifteen years wishing that I could tell you about your daughter. _

_I have included a copy of Isadora's DNA profile. It is a legal profile, properly notarised and acceptable for any court in the country. You have no reason to believe my claim, but I ask that you have your DNA profile compared to Isa's. She cannot be any other man's child. _

_I have included a photo of her and I at her high school graduation. She was valedictorian. I know that you have never met her, but you would have been so proud. I am._

_She knows all about you. I have told her about you since she was born, and she knows that her father didn't leave because he didn't love her. She knows that her father isn't around because of a simple miscommunication. She holds no ill feelings towards you, and neither do I. She hasn't said it, but I know she would like to have a relationship with you._

_Jasper, we understand if you don't want any contact with us. We don't want money from you, and cannot compel you to have any contact with either of us. I didn't know your surname when Isa was born, so your full name isn't on her birth certificate. I have no way of legally binding myself to you in order to force you to spend time with us. Not that I would want to. If you don't want to hear from us again, please send us a message letting us know. My email address and phone number are at the bottom of the page. We will be moving in a week, and I still don't have an address for us when we do._

_I am sorry that I had to send this to your manager, to Victoria. But, I had no other way of contacting you. I hope that this gets passed onto you._

_Yours, _

_Lilly_

_Lillian Delphine Haig_

My darling girl, sending that letter was one of the scariest things I had ever done. Once it was in the post, it was out of my hands. I had to rely on the postal service to deliver it to Victoria's office, and for Victoria to pass it onto Jasper.


	16. Book One Lilly - C15 Meetings

_ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

Isa, when we got to Providence, our first priority was finding a house. Our lease didn't expire in Ithaca for another month, and Nessa had agreed to talk oversee the removalists taking our stuff out, having cleaners come in, return keys and all those end of lease things. It gave us room to breathe, room to find a house.

After living in apartments for the last twelve years, after renting for all that time I wanted to move into a house, and I wanted to own it. We had appointments to look at six houses, but only got to the second one. It was perfect, not too big or small, with a decent sized backyard. We both fell in love, and signed the agreement on the spot. We settled it three weeks later, once I had secured a loan. Despite not being a resident, it was amazingly easy to do. I think the fact I had been living her for the last eight years, and that you were enrolled in college, and that I had a secure job for the next four years made in easy. That, and thanks to the bonus I got when I finished working for Abaigael, I had a sizeable deposit behind me.

The house was what I always thought of as traditional American. It had big, wrap around porches, two levels, gable windows, and the sloping porch roofs that you can sit on. It even had a wisteria trellis, already established and covering a paved area at the back.

And with that, we suddenly had a house. Nessa arranged for the removalists to come the next day, and three days after signing the agreement, our house was filled with the furniture we had. The house was more than double the size of our apartment, so suddenly we needed more furniture. Like when we arrived in Ithaca, we set about finding what we needed, although this time we started at the antique stores. We found a sleigh bed for the guest bedroom, bedside tables, a coffee table, and a full length mirror. The bed needed a new mattress, and we needed more bookshelves. These were easy to obtain, and we had them all delivered two days later.

And with that, our house became a home. Our home.

My darling daughter, I was shocked when late on the Monday night, less than a week after we arrived in Providence and less than a fortnight after posting the letter, I got a call from Alice.

Alice, Jasper had told me during our conversations on tour, was his big sister. And his only family. His parents had both died several years previously, and she had become his guardian, his best friend. He told me how protective she was, how she had battled for him to be put into her care, not into the foster care system. He told me of her strength, and her kindness. Of how family meant everything to her, and that she would battle anyone who threatened her family.

So, when she introduced herself, I almost dropped the phone in my panic to finally hear the voice of the girl who had seemed so frightening to me all those years ago.

"Lilly?" Alice asked after I answered the phone.

"Yes, this is Lillian Haig. May I ask who is calling please?" Her number had come up as private or restricted, and I didn't recognise her voice on the other end of the phone.

"Lilly, my name is Alice. Mary-Alice Brandon Whitlock. I am Jasper's older sister. Which, I guess, makes me Isadora's aunt. You sent my brother a letter a bit over a week ago, right?"

"Y..Yes. Yes, Alice, I sent Jasper a letter telling him that he is a father. I didn't know how else to contact him."

"Oh, Lilly, sweety, don't be worried. I'm not ringing you to yell at you. I'm actually ringing you to ask if I can meet you. I only have one day off this week, on Thursday. I'm not able to leave the city, so I was wondering if you could come here? To Seattle? Are you free Thursday?"

"Umm… I'm free… But Alice, I don't think I can afford to fly there on such short notice. Or on long notice either. My budget is kinda tight. I would love to meet you… but last minute flights are expensive…"

"Don't be silly. I would fly you here and back. At my own expense. Don't worry about the cost. Are you alright leaving Isadora alone for a night? What with the transit times and time differences, I will probably have to put you on a red-eye home. Is that okay? If it isn't, let me know, but then you loose a whole extra day… and you have to leave Isadora alone for two days. But I guess if she is starting college, she is kinda independent, yes? I will book the flights now, and send you the itinerary. I have your email address, so I guess I will see you at the airport on Thursday?" She sounded so excited, I couldn't help but smile. And could barely get a word in. I agreed where she needed me to, allowing her whirlwind to surround me, to plan for me.

"Of course. Ummm… can I have your number? In case anything happens? A red-eye is fine, cos I would rather not be away from Isa for too long. It makes me nervous."

"Sure." She rattled off her number, and I quickly scribbled it down. "I'll email the itinerary through. See you on Thursday! Bye!"

And, with that she hung up. I sat back, reeling at the strange conversation I had just had, the trip I had just agreed to. I knew that you would be safe here for a night, but I still felt bad about leaving you in such an unfamiliar city by yourself, so soon after we moved.

As Thursday approached, I became increasingly apprehensive. I was glad, in some ways, that Alice had only given me two days to worry about things, about meeting her. I was confused why she was the one I would be meeting, not Jasper, but decided not to dwell on it too much.

Alice, true to her word, had emailed through the travel itinerary, and tickets. My flight departed at 6am on Thursday morning, and with one stop over, I would arrive in Seattle a little after 11am, local time. Coming back, I left at 1030pm, arriving back in Providence at about 9am the next day. I also had to change planes on the way home, and really didn't look forward to the bleariness I knew I would feel after the night flight.

Jasper had explained that Alice was a fashion designer of some sort, but I had never heard of her. So, I was shocked to see that the tickets Alice had sent me were first class. I had never even dreamed of flying first class, knowing that the likelihood of ever having that sort of money was slim to none.

As I was only going for the day, I had no check in bags, only my carry on. Knowing Seattle's reputation for being wet and rainy, I packed my raincoat, and a change of shoes. I dressed in layers, having heard that the city could change weather suddenly, and not wanting to be stuck in clothing that was too hot or cold. As I checked in at the ungodly hour of 5am, I again wondered about what was going to happen that day.

Arriving in Seattle, I felt bleary and a bleugh, something I attributed to the early morning start and the eight hour travel time. As I stumbled out of the gate, I suddenly realised I had no way of recognising Alice. The description Jasper had given all those years ago was that his sister was 'tiny, pixie-like, with spiky black hair, and too much energy.' In the fifteen years since seeing him, I doubted that the tiny part of his description had changed, but was unsure about the hair or energy.

I shouldn't have worried.

As I stepped through the gate, a figure broke away from the waiting crowd, and barreled into me. She wrapped me in a hug, and for once in my life, I felt tall. I stood a comfortable five six, but the woman hugging me wouldn't have even cleared five feet. She later told me she was a proud four ten in flats. She no longer had the spiky black hair, instead opting for a more natural brunette colour, with waves that fell to just above her shoulders.

Unused to this, or any, sort of physical relationships with strangers, I stood awkwardly, one arm wrapped around Alice as she continued to hug me. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, she pulled away, leaning back to look up at me. It stuck me that she and Jasper must look absurd standing next to each other. That she must look like a child compared to his height. Before I had a chance to gather my thoughts any further, she started talking. Faster than anyone I had ever met. The speed and the southern twang so like her brother's were incongruous, and I assumed that she was being fueled by caffeine or sugar. I had never heard anyone from the South talk so fast. I later learnt that this was simply Alice. She didn't slow down all day, and I didn't see her consume any caffeine, or large quantities of sugar.

"Hi, I'm Alice. And you must be Lilly. Can I call you Lilly? I mean, I know we have only just met, but I feel like I already know you. You were all my brother could talk about, for months after that tour. You are gorgeous! I can see why Jasper was so taken with you. And, I think that life, age, motherhood, agrees with you. You look amazing."

By this stage, she had taken my by the arm, and was dragging me through the airport terminal. Despite her tiny stature, or maybe because of my state of shock, I was having difficulties keeping up with her.

"So, I have a whole day planned for us. I know that you must be exhausted from your flight, and probably starving. I know the food is better in first class, but I still find it's gross plane food. So, I thought we could start at a restaurant, then head to a spa for some relaxation? Don't worry, it'll all be very low profile. And if the media does get wind of things, you will be linked to me, not Jasper. And my profile, my star rating is so much lower than his. I rarely get followed anywhere. Despite making so many stars and films look so good. But being Jasper's sister has raised my profile a bit recently."

I honestly had no idea what she was talking about. It wasn't until later I realised that the profile she was talking about was how much the media paid attention to them, their fame.

"So, what sort of food would you like? If I don't know a good place we can go, then I know people who will. Get in."

We had arrived at her car, and it was beautiful. I don't know much about cars, but this was a beautiful classic. The convertible roof seemed a bit impractical for Seattle weather, but the look of the car suited the exuberant woman in front of me. The pink was perfectly suited to her energy, her vitality, and her happiness.

"Isn't it pretty? It's my baby. My dad and I restored it, before the accident. She only comes out on special occasions now, and you seemed like a special occasion. And today is going to be a beautiful day. Food preferences?"

I said the first thing that came to mind, thanking my luck that it was something I actually ate. "Sushi?"

"Perfect. I know the best little sushi bar, run the traditional Japanese way. I'm sure that they speak English, but it's more fun to be yelled at in Japanese, don't you think?" We had climbed into the car, and Alice was exiting the car park. As she hit the clear roads, she picked up the pace. I was terrified. Alice, it seemed, liked to drive _fast_. I felt the need to cling to my seat, and closed my eyes, protecting myself from the images that were flashing past quicker than I felt was safe.

"Umm… yes… being yelled at in Japanese… best way to eat sushi."

"I know, right? Well, we should be there soon. And don't worry about anything today, it is all my treat."

Nodding, I tightened my grip on the seats. Alice's driving didn't seem to get any less frightening the longer I was in the car. If anything, it almost got more scary.

I was so relieved when we arrived at this sushi bar. True to her word, the sushi was amazing, and the experience of being yelled at in Japanese did make me feel like I was back in Japan. I ordered and ate slowly, as Alice continued to chatter away. About halfway through the meal, she turned to me, as if she suddenly realised that she was monopolising the conversation.

"Oh, my god! I'm totally doing all the talking. You must be so confused. I mean, you've never met me before, and here I am talking your ear off."

"That's okay, Alice. I think that you are a bit more of a talker than I am. But I am a bit confused. Why am I meeting you? Does Jasper not want to see me? Because that is fine. He just needed to send an email telling me so. I mean, Isa and I have done just fine for ourselves for the last fourteen years. We can keep doing it. I just though he would want to know…." I trailed off, not sure what else to say to this bubbly woman in front of me.

"Silly girl! Of course my brother wants to meet you. But, sadly, he is in Europe for the next two months. The film distributers are really pushing the promotion of _Drawing of Three_. They want it to move past the cult status _Gunslinger_ got. So, Jasper is currently in Munich. Berlin tomorrow. He never has more than two days off in a row, and none of them gave him enough time to fly back to meet with you in person. He desperately wants to. And he couldn't face not starting the communication until he gets back to the States.

"He spent the year after the tour you two did pining over you, you know. He tried to hide it from me, but I knew. He kept kicking himself that he didn't ask for your name, for an email address or facebook or anything. From the sounds of things, you both decided that. He even rang the tour company, about four months after the tour, when it occurred to him that they would have your name. But like you, they wouldn't give it to him. He did authorise his name to be given to you, but I guess you had already tried that route by then.

"He's still single, you know. There have been a few girlfriends over the last few years, but none of them lasted long. He claims that none of them were right, that none of them were 'the one,' but I think it's more than that. I think that he never really got over you, that he never really stopped believing that somehow your lives and paths would cross again.

"Not that he would ever admit to that.

"So, he didn't want to miss this opportunity. He asked me to start things off, to open up lines of communication. And, he almost fired Victoria. She told him about your letter as a joke, expecting him to laugh at the crazy fan who had been so sure that she knew him years ago she had included her child's DNA profile. Jasper was furious that she was making a joke about it, especially when Victoria told him the name of the person who sent the letter. My brother doesn't get angry easily, but when he does, it is frightening.

"Once he was done yelling at Victoria, he rang me, asking me to pick the letter up for him. He was almost in tears, Lilly. While I'm sure he is still in shock that he is a father, I don't think he had ever expected to hear from you again. And I think part of him always wanted to see you again. So, I think that the tears were in relief that he suddenly had a way to contact you.

"He wants to get to know is daughter. If she wants to know him. And he wants to see you again. He understands that you probably have a life, friends, relationships, have moved on since you knew him, but he wants to be part of your lives. He is kicking himself that he can't be here, that he has to finish out the commitments his contract forces him into.

"The photograph was enough to convince him that Isadora is his daughter. She has so much of him in her, doesn't she? She looks a bit like our grandmother did at that age. But, Victoria, thinking as his agent, something he really didn't want when he heard about you, made him have the paternity tested. He's a match. Which, of course, you already knew."

She paused, drawing breath. Motioning to someone behind me, she continued when more drinks arrived on our table. Reaching into the messenger bag slung over her chair, she pulled out a red, leather notebook.

"I gave this to Jasper a week after he got back from that tour you both did. He wasn't really talking to me then, blaming me for things beyond my control. Blaming me for sending him on that trip, and meeting you. We had just moved from Texas to Washington, so he didn't really have any friends yet, didn't have a support network here yet. Not that he really had one outside of me in Texas, but whatever. I gave him this book.

"I told him to write the important parts of his life in it. That the book wasn't for him, but for someone else. And that he would know who that person was when he met them. I always had suspicions that your paths would cross again, I just didn't know when. I'm glad it was now. I mean, this is so much better than finding each other when you're all old and wrinkly, right? Well, anyway, the book was never meant for him, he just needed to keep it. To record the important parts of his life. When he got your letter, he knew who the book was for.

"He wants you to give this to Isadora. He wants his daughter to know him. He wants to be part of your lives. He can't be there with you both at the moment, but as soon as his commitments finish, as soon as the promotional touring stops, he is going to come to see you in Providence. If you want him to. He really doesn't want to do anything without your consent.

"He also apologises for some of the content in that book… he didn't know that he was writing it for his daughter, a teenager for that matter, when he wrote some of it...

"There is a letter for you in the front of the notebook. He asked me to give it to you, and for you to read it when you get back home."

I was speechless. I had never expected him to want to launch into our lives so soon. I had expected him to have moved on. To be happily in a committed relationship, to not want anything to do with you, my darling girl.

My time with Alice was so short that day, that I knew what I had to do.

"Alice, thank you. Do you think he'd mind if I read this before I gave it to Isadora?" I motioned to the book, and Alice shook her head, saying it was fine, that Jasper had expected me to want to read it. I reached for my bag, and pulled out a photo album.

Taking a deep breath of relief, I passed her the album before I continued. "Good. Can you please give him this? I had always hoped that I would find him again, but had almost resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't. I didn't even realise that you guys didn't live in Texas any more. The only lead I had was that I was looking for Jasper from Texas, who was eighteen and lived with his sister, and about to start college. Not exactly the way to find someone.

"This book is Isadora's life so far. I have been making three copies of this since she was born. One for me, one for her, and one for Jasper. I never thought I would get a chance to see him again, but always hoped I would. Each photo has a story or special meaning for me. I have been compiling it since Isadora was born. The DVD has a short movie on it. Once I found out I was pregnant, I took a photo of myself every day. I continued to do this after Isa was born, taking photos of her every day for the first two years of her life. They have been stitched together into a movie, showing my body growing, my belly increasing in size. And then, it shows Isa growing, changing day by day.

"You have my phone number. Please let him know that he can ring any time he wants. Except when I'm asleep, I tend to be a bit cranky then. I don't start my new job for another month, so I am pretty much free during all day until I start. I'd love to hear from him. But, I understand that he is busy."

Smiling, Alice assured me that she would let him know.

"Nothing would make me happier at the moment than you and my brother becoming friends. Now, are you done? Do you want anything more to eat?"

Assuring her that I was full, sated, Alice got up and we left. I don't know how she had done it, but somehow she had managed to pay without me noticing.

As she pulled me back to her car, she started talking about what we were going to do for the rest of the day. "I thought you may not have had much you time in the last decade and a half. So, I have arranged a spa day for us. Do you mind? And, do you mind if I bring a few of my friends along? They will love you."

Alice talked and acted so much faster than I was used to. Nodding numbly, I agreed to meet her friends, to go to the spa with her. She was right that I hadn't really had any me time since you were born, but I don't mind. You are worth it, my darling girl.

Once more, the car ride was frightening. Opening my eyes when Alice switched off the engine, I realised that we were at one of the most up market day spas I had ever encountered.

"Alice, I can't afford this. I can't let you pay for this. It's too much."

"Don't be silly," she replied. "You are the mother of my niece. I have missed the last fifteen years of your life. I am a highly successful film costume designer. My annual salary averages at least low six figures, but good years it is high six or low seven. And the last few have all been good years Please, let me spend this on you. I think my life has been a bit easier than yours. It is the least I can do for you. Plus, I want to. You can't deny me that, can you?"

Sighing, I agreed to let her pay.

As we walked in, I noticed the group of women sitting in the foyer. A brunette about my height, with huge doe eyes got up first walking to Alice. I blushed as the woman kissed Alice's lips, the passion of their love clearly emanating.

"Bella, this is Lillian. She's the mother of Jasper's daughter. Lilly, this is my wife, Bella." Alice gestured to the other women seated in the foyer. "The blonde is Rosalie, the motherly looking woman waving is Esme, and the girl in glasses is Angela. Esme was my boss when Jasper and I first moved to Seattle, and Rosalie is her daughter. Angela is a screenwriter, she and her husband Ben wrote the script for the _Gunslinger _movies and Esme and I've done costumes for those and several of her other films. And, they are all family to me and Jasper."

All the women waved, greeting me warmly. We were ushered into the spa, and before I knew it, I was being massaged, pummeled and polished. The massage was amazing. My body felt more relaxed than it had in years, and I really didn't want to get off the table. Eventually, I was coaxed off, and out into the damp Seattle air. Esme took pity on me, and ushered Bella into Alice's car, taking me in hers instead.

My darling girl, I think I spent most of my time in Seattle eating. We went to dinner before my flight home, and I began to feel more relaxed around these women. They were lovely, friendly, and welcoming. I slowly began to learn about these women who had become such a big part of Jasper's life, the women who were part of his family. They all insisted on exchanging contact information with me, of keeping in touch when I returned to Providence. All too soon it seemed, it was time to be driven to the airport. Alice drove, at the same horrifying speeds she had used for the rest of the day.

The flight home was better than I expected for a red-eye. Probably because the first class seats were so much more comfortable than economy seats. Despite this, I was exhausted when I got home. After checking on you, I went straight to bed. Knowing I could only sleep for a few hours without totally throwing off my body clock, I set my alarm to go off at midday. Waking up feeling slightly refreshed, I went in search of you, went to tell you all about your aunt.

It wasn't until later than night that I remembered about the notebook I had been given to pass onto you, about the letter than Jasper had included for me.

Climbing into bed, ready for sleep, I pulled the letter out, and saw your father's handwriting for the first time. Settling back into my pillows, I began to read.

_Dear Lilly._

_I don't think I can begin to describe the shock I felt when Victoria told me about your letter. I have spent the last fifteen years kicking myself for not getting your contact details after the tour. It has to be the stupidest thing I have ever done. _

_I am so glad that you contacted me. I am so glad that I have a chance to get to know you again. Because you are still the most amazing person I have ever met. You have to believe me when I say that._

_My contract keeps me in Europe for the next two months. I wish I was able to come home, but I can't. So, instead, I send my sister in my place. I know she can be a bit hyper, but she loves me. I know she will love you too. And if she drives too fast, just tell her to slow down. She (usually) listens. _

_At Victoria's insistence, I had my DNA profile done, and compared to Isadora's. We are a match. Not that I ever doubted that. Isadora is beautiful, just like you, and she has so much of our family in her. I know that it could just be wishful thinking, but I know that I see my family in her. She can't be anyone's child but mine. And she looks like she has so much of you in her. And if, as you say, she has graduated high school, is valedictorian, is starting college, at an Ivy no less, she must be as amazing as you were when I met you. As amazing as I am sure you still are._

_I want to get to know Isadora, to get to know you again. I understand if you don't want to have anything to do with me, but I want to be part of your life. To have the opportunity to know the two of you._

_I don't presume to know how your life was. My life was easy, I was provided for. My parents left my sister and I enough money to live comfortably. I have no idea what your life was like after Isadora was born, and if it was hard, I am truly sorry for that._

_If there is anything that I can do now, please let me know. I know it is a fairly empty offer, considering that Isadora is about to start college on a full scholarship, and you have a job at the university, at Brown no less._

_Please, can I contact you?_

_Yours, _

_Jasper. _

My gorgeous baby girl, I was in tears by the time I finished reading Jasper's letter. I put it aside, and started reading the notebook. I slowly read the pages, read through the things he had done in the years since I last saw him. By the time I finished, it was well after midnight. I felt blessed to have been given a second opportunity to get to know Jasper.

I felt even more blessed that you were being given the opportunity to get to know your father.

My darling girl, it was reading Jasper's notebook that inspired me to write this. My life was, as he thought, very different to his. It was hard at parts. I know you are aware of most of the story, but I think you needed to hear all of it. Because, for much of the early years of your life, you were unaware of what was going on around. And, I know that past your fairee tale, I have never really told you why you don't have contact with your grandparents, so many of the small details of our lives.

You have always said that the fairee tale was enough for you, but I think I owe you more. I owe you the full truth. So, I have written this for you. It has kept me hidden away in my room for the last week, coming out of seclusion only to eat. I apologise for my behaviour the last week, but I needed to do this. I needed to do this for you.

The story is unfinished. I have filled this book, and have told you everything I can about your life so far. You start college in a barely a month, and I start my new job tomorrow.

My darling, I have read your father's notebook. His life played out so differently to mine, and yet our paths have crossed again. Please, read about his life. It is, and always will be, your decision if you have a relationship with him. You choose, it is your life to live.

And, as you live it, please fill the olive notebook.

My darling girl, you will have an amazing life. Never forget that, never let anyone tell you anything else. You can do anything you want to, anything you put your mind to.

And so, I tell you once more, my darling girl, I love you. You are the centre of my world, and I will always love you.

Your loving mother,

Lillian Delphine Haig

xoxo


End file.
